


The Long Road that Does Not Lead Home

by victoriousscarf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All the warnings, Battle of Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Multi, Torture, book canon, but within the larger structure of still being headmaster/student, except for a few incidents where it uses the movie version, no one said this was going to have a happy ending, not technically underage, past teacher/student now headmaster/student relationships, still mind the age gap, super questionable morality, though in terms of actual plot it's more spy/rebel leader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the hell are you doing?” Snape snarled and the castle around them was quiet enough he could hear the shocked intake of breath. The boy in front of him seemed frozen for several heartbeats before he slowly turned around.</p><p>Of all the people Snape expected to find in the middle of the night spray painting propaganda on the walls it would not have been Neville Longbottom. But here the boy was, shaking slightly and holding the magical spray paint that had been causing so much trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Your most basic warning [is best summarized with this.](https://31.media.tumblr.com/7907c44b213373e292456c1c0f940db7/tumblr_inline_n4jciwKE9a1rxjjr2.gif)
> 
> This is for Sarah entirely because it is also /all her fault/ for even suggesting this pairing, which I was actually really uncomfortable with shipping (due to bullying and the past power dynamic making that even worse). But somehow I got very invested in it so here we go. Besides, it was high time I owed her Snape fic (About, oh, ten years or so). 
> 
> Warnings for: Age difference, power imbalance, magical torture, basically 7th year business as we heard briefly from the books, and headmaster/student relationship (though really spy/rebel leader is more accurate, it's within that larger structure)

“What the hell are you doing?” Snape snarled and the castle around them was quiet enough he could hear the shocked intake of breath. The boy in front of him seemed frozen for several heartbeats before he slowly turned around.

Of all the people Snape expected to find in the middle of the night spray painting propaganda on the walls it would not have been Neville Longbottom. But here the boy was, shaking slightly and holding the magical spray paint that had been causing so much trouble. It was a Weasley product he realized and wasn’t much surprised.

“Peeves would be proud,” he sneered and could hear another quiet intake of breath.

But when Longbottom spoke he didn’t sound afraid. “He’s been helping too,” he said, chin tilted back slightly and still shaking and Snape felt a wave of fury.

“Of course,” he said, grabbing Longbottom’s upper arm and dragging him along. When the boy’s other hand fumbled for his wand, Snape yanked him around to face him. Longbottom’s eyes widened and he stopped breathing as Snape held them almost chest to chest. “Don’t think about it,” he growled, but fished the wand out of the boy’s pocket anyway, holding it with the paint in one hand before he whirled around, robes hitting Longbottom as he strode through the castle, pulling the boy with him.

For a ways, Longbottom seemed stunned, stumbling along behind him. When they had almost reached the Headmaster’s office, he started to struggle, to pull back and twist his arm. “Stop it,” Snape said, silky smooth and dangerous, pointing Longbottom’s own wand at him. The boy tensed and Snape jerked him past the gargoyle and up the stairs.

“You could have just punished me in the hallway,” Longbottom said and Snape practically threw him through the door and into the office. “It’s not like—” and the boy cut off abruptly, eyes widening as he stared at the portrait of Dumbledore, who looked alert considering the late hour. Some of the others were snoring, and a few grumbled at being woken up as Snape slammed the door behind them.

“How could you?” Longbottom gasped, staring at the portrait and Snape shoved his shoulder, turning him slightly and forcing him into a chair in front of the desk. “How _dare_ you—”

“Be quiet, Longbottom,” Snape said, voice level and his eyes narrowed.

“You killed him,” Longbottom snarled and Snape blinked, surprised to see the venom on that face. “And you dare to have his portrait.”

“I said, do be quiet,” Snape said, dropping Longbottom’s wand and the paint can on the desk before drawing out his own wand and grabbing the boy’s chin in his other hand, forcing their eyes to meet. “Now tell me what exactly you were doing.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Longbottom asked and Snape wanted to slap him.

“Answer the question, Longbottom,” he said and could feel him twitch, eyes sliding away. “Be clear, if you would.”

“I don’t have to answer you,” Longbottom managed, trying to convince himself and Snape snarled, forcing his chin back.

When Longbottom’s eyes met his again, he smiled slowly. “What do you think you can hide from me?” he asked. “I could force Veritaserum into your mouth. Or if that would take too much time, I could just force my way into your mind, and find anything I want there.” Longbottom started thrashing suddenly and Snape drew back, binding him down to the chair. “Oh, stop it. You don’t seem to much like that idea.”

Longbottom actually bared his teeth and looked ready to snarl at him.

Snape pointed his wand back at his face. “What were you doing?”

“Spray painting the walls,” Longbottom said, meeting his eyes instead of going cross eyed to focus on the wand.

“Yes, more inane nonsense about Dumbledore’s Army?” Snape asked, as more of the portraits woke up and paid attention. They weren’t grumbling at all anymore. “The same things that have been showing up since the first day of classes? What exactly are you hoping to achieve with your campaign of annoyance? Or would you even know? After all, you’re never the ring leader, always the follower. I bet they haven’t even told you their intentions…”

“It is my—” he started and broke off abruptly.

Snape blinked at him before smiling. “It is your what? Your plan? Is that why you don’t want me in your mind? Or are there other things you know that no one would expect?” He forced Longbottom’s chin around again as he started straining against the bonds. “You should have been in Hufflepuff, with all the misplaced loyalty you have.”

“Not misplaced,” Longbottom protested, almost knocking the chair over backward.

Snape tried to imagine the scared boy who had run from him in the hallways and blown up cauldrons in his class and place him next to the struggling creature in front of him.

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” Longbottom suddenly snapped. “If you’re going to torture me or in-invade my mind just _do it_.”

And there, Snape thought, looking down at him, was the fear.

“Detention, Mr. Longbottom,” he said instead, drawing back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Longbottom rasped.

“Every night, next week. Detention for vandalism.”

The boy stared at him, disbelief in his eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“And, for that matter, being out of bed at this hour,” Snape said, voice smooth again and Longbottom didn’t move. With a scowl and a flick of his wand, Snape disappeared the bonds. “Get to bed. Now.”

For a long moment Longbottom did not move before he scrambled up, giving Snape another disbelieving look, glanced at the portrait one last time, and had almost reached the door when Snape cleared his throat. His shoulders tensed and he turned around slowly.

“Your wand,” Snape said, cordial and Longbottom paused before slowly inching his way back over, as if expecting to be struck at any time as Snape held out his hand. “Now go,” Snape snapped the instant it was back in its owner’s hands and Longbottom ran out of the office this time.

“That was unnecessarily angry of you, Severus,” Dumbledore remarked from behind him and Snape turned around, hitting the desk with both his hands.

“He is making this harder,” he snarled, looking up at the portrait and feeling the same twist he had felt the whole last month to look at it, to hear that voice speak to him. Dumbledore was guiding him even now and it made his stomach churn. “He’s been making it harder, if what he almost said was true. I’m sure there are others with him but—They are all making it harder! I can’t protect the students or the Carrows will be suspicious, and I can’t let them think I’m anything but—” He broke off in frustration.

“You knew this was the path you were going to walk,” Dumbledore said, looking kindly and Snape almost pitched an inkwell at him.

Instead he pushed back and starting pacing. “But Neville _Longbottom_ ,” he said.

“You knew his parents,” Dumbledore’s portrait replied and Snape stopped, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“That child has never been his parents,” he said. “He is going to get himself killed when I’m not looking.”

“Or worse,” Dumbledore said quietly and Snape slammed his way out of the office before he tried to curse the portrait.

-0-

“Neville,” Ginny said and waited before leaning over. “Neville,” she hissed, louder and he jumped, finally looking up at her.

“Oh, Ginny,” he said with a weak smile. “Good morning.”

“Have you eaten a bite?” she asked, gesturing her chin down to his plate, which he looked at in some surprise.

“Oh, no,” he said and found himself looking back at the staff table instead of actually eating. The Carrows were leaning together, talking quietly and sneering, but they weren’t giving him any dark looks in particular, and Snape had not been there all morning.

“Neville,” Ginny snapped again and he whipped his head back around. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” he said, focusing back on her and trying not to feel his skin crawl now that he wasn’t watching the professors anymore.

“I walked past a half written tag this morning,” Ginny said. “Do you think someone got caught last night?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did.”

She stared at him in stunned silence. “What do you mean, yeah, I did?” she demanded, leaning her elbows on the table and squinting at his face, taking in the circles under his eyes. “Are you okay? Who caught you? What happened?”

“Snape,” he managed weakly and she sucked in a horrified breath.

“Neville,” she said, voice dropping. “Are you alright? Do you need to see—”

He shook his head, glancing at the staff table again before focusing on her. “I’m fine, physically anyway. He just dragged and tossed me around a little.” Even though he had threatened to do more, Neville added silently with a twist to his mouth. “But, he did give me detention all week.”

“You can’t go,” Ginny said, completely certain as Seamus sat down beside Neville.

“It’s not like I can’t,” Neville replied. “He sorta knows where I am, and I can’t imagine I’d make out any better for _not_ going than simply accepting it.”

“Who’ve you got detention with?” Seamus asked, already eating.

“Snape,” Ginny said before Nevile could open his mouth.

Seamus dropped his fork, staring at Neville in horror as he bit his lip and looked away. “Mate, he’ll kill you, you can’t go.”

“If either of you have an actual option rather than a vague threat, I’d really love to hear it,” Neville ground out. His jaw ached with how hard he clenched it.

He failed to actually hear Seamus’ answer, which seemed to involve exploding something and running away to the Forbidden Forest because Snape finally appeared at the staff table in a cloud of billowing robes. Still tuning Seamus out, Neville tracked his movements as he sat and starting speaking the Carrows on his left.

Ginny and Seamus seemed to have followed his gaze, or at the very least realized he wasn’t paying attention because they both fell silent for a moment. Neville kept waiting for the Carrows to turn and leer at him, because when Snape told them, they would gleefully make his life even harder. The few torture spells each week when he spoke up in class would likely turn into daily occurrences because he had caught them muttering about the graffiti before, and what they would like to do to the perpetrators of it.

Except they never looked over, and the pair left the table looking grumpy and annoyed, not once looking toward the students. Neville couldn’t believe it, and kept staring at the staff table in shock until Snape looked up and the very edges of his mouth curled.

Snapping his eyes instantly away, Neville found Ginny and Seamus watching him again.

“I’m sure Hagrid would bring you food in the forest,” Seamus said and Neville shoved back from the table.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he said, and walked out of the Great Hall as quickly as he could.

-0-

When Luna sat down beside Neville at lunch, he figured Ginny had already told her because she sat quietly but with a crease between her brows.

“You’ll be careful?” she asked.

“As I can be,” Neville agreed, still not eating a thing. “It’s just detention.” With a man who had killed the last Headmaster, instigated a reign of terror at the school which allowed torture to be used on the students when they weren’t chained up, and who had terrified Neville for years.

Luna frowned. “I wasn’t aware headmasters even gave detention. Maybe Dumbledore simply chose not to.”

Neville blinked at her because the thought had never occurred to him, he had been too tense and twisted up into knots in his own head when Snape had snarled the word at him. “Maybe he’s used to being a teacher,” Neville said, finally trying a piece of toast.

It sat heavy in his stomach the rest of the day. He’d already lost weight over the summer, with stress about the coming year. But since returning to Hogwarts it had possibly gotten worse and he was starting to frown at his reflection to make sure he couldn’t see his ribs. Any more weight, and it would probably but unhealthy.

Not that any part of being at Hogwarts was healthy anymore.

He didn’t eat during dinner, waiting outside the Great Hall where he had usually seen Snape exit.

“Who said I wanted you now?” Snape asked, striding by him and Neville swallowed before following.

“You never told me when,” Neville said. “And it’s not like I could actually get into your office. If you’d rather I come back later—”

“You want to get this over with, don’t you?” Snape asked and he actually sounded somewhat interested in Neville’s answer.

“Yes,” Neville said tensely and he was glad he’d barely eaten all day with the lurch his stomach gave.

Snape’s eyes flickered over and he shook his head, sweeping away and Neville trailed after him. He thought he should pay more attention to the hallways, as he only vaguely remembered hot to get to the headmaster’s office but he couldn’t focus as they walked.

Every muscle in his body was tense when Snape whispered the password to the gargoyle and gestured Neville to follow him up. Entering the office again, Neville took the time to look around like he had not the night before, even as his shoulder hunched over in anticipation of pain.

Except Snape seemed to ignore him, shuffling around his desk for something and Neville found himself staring at the portrait of Dumbledore, who seemed to be pretending to sleep in his frame. Every once and a while his eyelids flickered, and he looked at Neville before closing them again, and Neville didn’t think he once looked at Snape’s back.

Neville couldn’t remember ever actually speaking to Dumbledore, but there was still pain and grief twisting around in his chest as he stared at the portrait. He could still remember the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes, and the way his voice had sounded when he had given Neville only ten extra points, enough to change the entire end of year feast. When he had met Neville’s eyes and told him what real courage was, Neville had felt like the ground had gone the wrong way and that his chest would explode at the same moment the entire hall erupted around him.  He had never been hugged like that before.

“How can you stand it?” he blurted suddenly and Snape looked up at him, one brow arched. “You killed him how can—”

“Things are more complicated than your infinitely small brain can comprehend,” Snape said coldly, and handed Neville a stack of papers. “Sort these.”

Neville blinked at them and then Snape. “What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Snape asked and Neville shook his head too quickly. It made him dizzy. “Then sit there and be quiet.”

He sat the whole night, waiting for an attack or something to go wrong, but after two hours Snape waved a hand at him in clear dismissal. “The same time?” Neville asked at the doorway, and only waited for Snape to nod before fleeing like he expected the blow to come from behind at the last minute.

-0-

The next night Snape told him to dust all the portrait frames.

“Are you joking?” Neville asked in shock and Snape leveled him with a long look. “Alright,” Neville said quickly, stepping back.

 “I expect you’ll be able to do it in silence,” Snape sneered and Neville nodded.

Except every time he looked over, Snape didn’t seem to be doing anything except staring into space, or occasionally watching Neville.

After an hour the silence seemed like too much. “Why didn’t you tell the Carrows?” Neville asked and wanted to bang his head against the drowsing witch in front of him. Except as soon as he spoke, she seemed to wake up, and send a penetrating look toward Snape over Neville’s shoulder.

“Would you rather I correct that oversight?” Snape asked.

“No,” Neville said quickly. “At least, I think not. But they are in charge of discipline and you aren’t a teacher anymore.”

“As I am very aware of,” Snape said acidly.

Neville swallowed and tried to convince himself to fall silent. “Why are you doing this?” He asked instead and Snape only stared at him, face impassive. Neville grasped the duster hard enough his knuckles were white.

“I could hex you if you rather,” Snape said, voice dangerous and Neville’s hands started to shake but he didn’t drop his gaze.

“No,” he said, voice more firm than he expected it to be. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Snape stared at him a moment longer. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said finally. “Leave.”

For a moment Neville actually almost protested before he remembered where he was, and with who and quickly made for the door, almost as fast as the night before.

-0-

“He’s honestly not been doing anything?” Ginny asked on Friday morning, the last night as far as Neville knew he was expected to show up at Snape’s office after dinner. She had fresh bruises on her face from a bad run in the night before. Luckily they had run fast enough to not be seriously harmed.

“No,” Neville said. “Just… being intimidating and quiet and sometimes snarly.”

Ginny frowned, tapping her quill against the parchment. Homework was a joke this year but the punishments for not turning it in were by far worse than simply trying to push through. “He might be trying to lull you into a false sense of security…”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed. “Though there’s no point really, in doing that.”

“For the hell of it?” Ginny offered.

“Maybe,” Neville allowed and looked around quickly. “I heard the password the other night, though.”

“What?” Ginny asked, trying not to be obvious as she leaned forward as well so they could talk quietly. “The actual password to the headmaster’s office?”

“He has the sword of Gryffindor in there,” Neville whispered back. “It’s not obvious where it is, but I saw it.”

“It doesn’t belong to him,” Ginny hissed, fury kindled in her eyes.

“No,” Neville agreed.

“I’ll talk to Seamus about trying to draw him out of his office,” Ginny said with a grin and leaned back.

-0-

Neville, Luna, and Ginny waited until they could see Snape sweeping down from his office and heading down the hall in the opposite direction before running back up to the Gargoyle, Neville saying the password as quickly as he could and hoping his voice didn’t shake so badly the Gargoyle wouldn’t understand it.

Except it instantly jumped aside and allowed the staircase to descend.

“That was simple,” Luna remarked, stroking the wing of the Gargoyle as they passed. “I’ve never seen the headmaster’s office.”

“Come on,” Neville said, heart in his throat, hoping Seamus would both be able to get away and leave them with enough time. If they moved fast, he couldn’t imagine that Snape would get all the way to the far corridor and back. He heard Ginny and Luna stop dead in the doorway as he strode over to where the sword was displayed.

“Is that—?” Luna asked weakly.

“All the headmasters have a portrait,” Neville said, because he had dusted them all and read the small inscriptions, even as he reached the sword case.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Dumbledore’s portrait said and Neville froze, hand almost there.

“What?” he asked, looking at the portrait with his heart in his throat. He had never actually heard Dumbledore speak.

Frankly, he thought a portrait shouldn’t be able to pull off the sad and resigned and proud expression on Dumbledore’s face. He couldn’t actually even imagine how a human could have done it. “It’s brave,” Dumbledore said. “But it won’t help you.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say when you’re dead,” Neville snapped, and Ginny had moved, wrapping her hands around the sword hilt. Instantly a shock seemed to shake the room and they looked at each other in shocked horror.

“We should go,” Luna said and Ginny started tugging at the sword. It took her a few tries before she could actually pull it off the stand with its sticking charms, and they ran.

Snape was at the bottom of the stairs though, fury radiating off him and he seemed to practically tower over them even from the lower steps. Ginny looked like she was about to hex him when Luna rested a hand on her arm in quiet warning.

“Give it back,” Snape said, voice low in warning.

“It’s not yours!” Ginny snapped, holding it closer to her chest. “It belongs to our house, not to a traitor and a filthy—”

Snape flicked his wand and the sword went flying toward him, which he caught easily even as Ginny’s hands scrambled in air to get it back. “Detention,” he hissed and Neville’s jaw dropped.

-0-

Detention as it turned out, was with Hagrid in the forest. Filch collected them in the evening and deposited them at the forest edge, the early October air cool. “You’ll be going into the forest tonight,” he said, voice hollow compared to the last time he had dragged Neville to serve detention in the forest.

“With Hagrid?” Neville confirmed in surprise and Filch nodded, giving them a last look before leaving.

“Why are we serving detention in the forest?” Ginny asked. “Why aren’t we—?”

“Do you really want to ask?” Neville asked, looking at the forest. It was ironic, to have gone into it during his first year, and now his seventh.

A moment later Hagrid stepped out of his hut, looking at them before shaking his head slightly. Exhaustion stooped his shoulders. Neville wondered what it was like to see the wrong trio. “Pro—I mean, Headmaster Snape wants you three to help me in the forest tonight,” he said and the three of them exchanged a quick look, Luna nodding. “There’s some rare plants he says he needs—”

“Plants?” Neville asked in shock. “Our detention is… plants?”

“They’re very difficult to harvest,” Hagrid said. “It can only be done at night, and with the Centaurs being angry the forest has become very dangerous. Don’t take this lightly.”

“I’m not,” Neville said, shoulders tense. He just couldn’t believe it.

-0-

The next morning they staggered into the great hall, and there were still some leaves and twigs in Luna’s hair. Even though Snape had never officially said why he was punishing them the entire school buzzed with rumors and news. Several people smiled at them, a couple patted them on the back, and the other DA members looked serious and proud.

By the end of the day everyone knew they had tried to steal the sword out of Snape’s office and the Carrows looked thunderous and angry, Snape impassive, and the other teachers proud and worried in the same look.

“People outside the school are going to hear about this at this point,” Ginny said when they were in the library that evening, trying to do homework without falling asleep. When Neville had drifted off in Herbology Professor Sprout hadn’t waked him until the end of the class period but his eyes still felt fuzzy.

He sighed, staring at the Muggle studies essay in front of him, wanting to rip it to shreds. Of course it was due the next morning and they couldn’t sleep  until it was done. “Considering how many people know about it,” he said. “I’m worried the punishment isn’t going to seem severe enough.”

“That’s because they didn’t end up running from Centaurs,” Ginny said, as she and Luna had almost encountered a group of them, running the other way before they could have been noticed. Ginny had twisted her ankle falling down a slippery hillside. Even though she could still walk on it, Neville caught her wincing from time to time.

“Still,” Neville said. “Compared to what could have—what should have happened—”

“It is odd,” Ginny allowed. “But I don’t feel good about getting any plants that would help Snape in whatever he’s doing.”

“I suppose that’s part of the punishment too,” Neville said, eyes blurring as he stared at the parchment in front of him.

But something still did not feel right.

He watched Snape the rest of the month, watched him interact with the Carrows and the other teachers, and with the students. Neville thought about the portrait, and what he had heard from Harry about the night Dumbledore died, what he remembered of the battle himself.

But vague suspicions weren’t enough, not considering the risks to everyone’s lives. It was the night that Neville saw Snape walk away from where Colin Creevey was spraying more Weasley paint all over the walls. Neville spent the next several days and nights trying to follow Snape through the castle whenever he could. He camped out at night in the corridor next to the gargoyle, listening to see who was going in and out of the office, following Snape when he left.

One night, after about a week, he heard Snape and the Carrows approach. “We should punish them more,” Alecto was protesting. “They broke into your office—”

“You think I am not aware of that?” Snape asked in a silky smooth voice. “Or that I am incapable of choosing proper punishments?”

“The whole school is talking about it,” Amycus protested and their conversation was cut off by the gargoyle sliding closed. Neville pushed his back against the wall around the corner and frowned at the tapestry across from him.

The week before Halloween, Neville waited outside the great hall, much like he had almost a month ago. He was glad when Snape stepped out alone, and felt a tiny victory at the look of surprise on his face.

“Longbottom,” Snape said, a brow arched.

“I’d like to talk to you,” Neville said, determined.

“Run along Longbottom, there has never been anything for us to talk about,” Snape sneered and that expression and tone of voice had once sent Neville running or cowering in turns. Snape clearly expected the same result, and Neville felt his stomach clench in fear but he only tilted his chin back and forced himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“I disagree.”

Snape blinked at him. “It’s not really your decision to make.”

“See,” Neville said, as if he hadn’t heard, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was listening. “I think there’s things you aren’t tell anyone, because a lot doesn’t match up. I want to know what you’ve been doing, these last several detentions and—” He broke off because Snape grabbed the back of his robes and started dragging him down the hallway. This was the treatment he remembered from the first night that Snape had caught him. Apparently he had made Snape angry then and now in ways he hadn’t in the meantime.

 “Are you an idiot?” Snape asked, throwing Neville in front of him when they reached his office and the portraits didn’t even bother to pretend not to be paying attention.

“I want to know what’s going on!” Neville snapped and even a month ago he would never have dared. “You act like you’re trying to protect us from the Death Eaters, not be one yourself!”

Snape stared at him and behind Neville’s back he thought he heard Dumbledore chuckle. “Excuse me?”

“Honestly, the forest?” Neville asked. “Detention dusting off portraits? Letting Colin off like you hadn’t seen him? And see, what really troubles me is the fact Dumbledore knew you weren’t going to be a teacher this year.”

He had never actually managed to make Snape looked surprised before so he ploughed on. “We’ve never had a defense teacher last more than a year, and I think there’s a reason for that. So why’d he finally give you the job?” He took a deep breath. “Why’d you kill Dumbledore?”

“You are making dangerous assumptions,” Snape said finally, looking at him with an odd expression.

“Yes,” Neville agreed. “Why did you kill him?”

“Because I am a traitor?” Snape sneered. “Who betrays trust and hates all things good and light in the world.”

“No,” Neville dismissed and now Dumbledore was definitely chuckling behind them. Neville finally turned slightly to look at the portrait.

“You may as well—” the painting started to say.

“Shut up,” Snape snarled and Neville turned back to him.

His fingers were twitching and he was starting at Neville like he had never seen him before, eyes narrowed and head tilted to one side. “It would be far more dangerous for you to know the answer to those questions than not.”

“I want to help,” Neville said promptly and Snape sat down on a chair pushed to the side of the door, where Neville had sat one night and sorted papers, and burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, this is my 100th story on AO3. Go figure?


	2. Chapter Two

“Well,” Neville managed. “If my help is that much of a joke to you—”

Snape’s eyes snapped to him and he shook his head slightly. “Come now, Longbottom,” he drawled and Neville’s eyes narrowed. “You have to see the irony. Your boggart turned into me—”

“I was thirteen!” Neville protested. “Things have changed, I’ve changed and frankly so have you.”

“You were awful in my class,” Snape said, tone lazy as he waved a hand. “Why would I even trust you to be able to do anything?”

“I wasn’t awful last year,” Neville grit out and Snape paused. He had barely even noticed Neville at all in Defense Against the Dark Arts. When he had focused on any student it had been bloody Harry Potter. He had snapped at Neville for mistakes when he caught them because it was a habit at that point. But thinking of it now, there had been very few mistakes to snarl about, and he had never once given the student detention that year.

“You still couldn’t do voiceless magic,” Snape said, a desperate grab for an insult, and he tensed when Neville drew his wand out. But Neville did not point it at him, instead summoning an inkwell off his desk, lips pressed stubbornly closed. He held it out to Snape, whose brows had risen.

“I was in potions last year,” Neville said and Snape reached out for the inkwell, his fingers twitching when they brushed against Neville’s.

His eyes snapped up in surprise. “What?”

“When I took the OWLS?” Neville said. “I got well enough to get into potions. It might have been a fluke, but I didn’t do all that badly either.” His eyes were narrowed and Snape snatched his hand back, holding the inkwell loosely in his lap. “And Hermione wasn’t even in the room for the test,” he added, eyes flaring and Snape blinked.

“So you blame me for your poor performance for the five years previous?” Snape asked with a sneer and Neville shrugged.

“I don’t think you ever helped. I remember—Harry was quoting Dumbledore I think, you know, one of the times he or Ron tried to convince me I could actually do something. That confidence was important to magic and my confidence was never great to begin with. You couldn’t have broken it down so bad if it had been strong. But it wasn’t.” His fingers rubbed along the grain of his wand and Snape found himself watching the motion. “But I joined the DA. I found something worth fighting for. I got my own wand. I got better. And I did _fine_ in potions.”

His expression dared Snape to laugh at him again.

Snape really did not feel like it. “Alright,” he allowed. “You’ve improved, you’ve grown. But whyever does that lead you to think I’d stoop to ask for your help?”

“Who else is offering?” Neville asked and Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why did you kill Dumbledore?” he asked again.

“Because he asked me to,” Snape said, rising and sweeping past Neville to the desk, setting the inkwell down with a clack. He had no interest in turning to see what the boy’s expression would be. “He was already dying.”

“It’s entirely true,” Dumbledore’s portrait added and Snape turned to see Neville’s eyes flicker between them, his jaw slack. “And don’t worry, our sorts of portraits cannot be enchanted to lie.”

“His hand?” Neville asked weakly. “Was it something to do with that?”

“Why Longbottom,” Snape drawled. “You really can think. I have to say I’m surprised.” Neville just rolled his eyes and watched him like he expected Snape to keep talking. “Yes, he was already dying. It also meant that not only would Draco Malfoy not have to do the deed, but I would be more trusted by the Dark Lord. Happy now?”

“No,” Neville said. “But I understand better.”

They stared at each other for a moment Snape wanted to laugh again at the entire situation ever coming to pass. “Now, what help could you possibly be to me?” he asked with a sneer, still surprised to see Neville shrug the expression away.

“I don’t know. But I want to.”

“You and your cronies—”

“Hey, they’re not,” Neville started to protest and Snape breezed right over him.

“—are making things more difficult. Your open rebellion is cute and brave but you’re not only going to damage yourselves but you’re making it impossible for me to be able to do _anything_ to keep you alive. I can’t destroy my cover protecting blood traitors and half bloods or someone else will be put in charge of this school and they’ll have _no_ interest in protecting any of you.”

“Well we can’t just stop fighting,” Neville said after a beat. “We— _I_ refuse to.” He took a deep breath and finally met Snape’s eyes. “But perhaps we could work something out. Compromise.”

“You and I, compromise?” Snape asked and everything about this conversation and the way Neville was staring at him felt like a cosmic joke.

Neville shrugged, eyes sliding away again. “Yes. You run the school and you say you want to protect us. That’s certainly means you’re the only choice, as I doubt the Carrows are harboring any such sympathy.”

“And why,” Snape drawled, watching his expression closely. “Should I deal with you?”

“Because I’m the leader,” Neville said promptly, with total surety and simplicity and Snape stared at him.

“Are you a fool? Are you an idiot?” he demanded in a hiss. “You can’t just tell people that, what if I was stringing you along? I could destroy you with it, if you’re so stupid—”

“You already have enough information to string me up,” Neville broke in and Snape stopped. “You have since the first night. You definitely have since we broke into your office—I would think it would be fairly obvious how we pulled that off after I’d been listening to your password all week.”

Realization made Snape want to reach out and strangle the boy. “You’re self sacrificing, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re not the only leader of this student revolution, though you certainly have tried to take up Potter’s mantle, aren’t you? Is Ginny filling in for her brother or Granger?” Neville set his mouth and his expression gave nothing away. “You’re stringing yourself up because you’re already exposed, to make sure the others aren’t,” Snape said and saw the barely there flinch. “Perhaps you aren’t so stupid after all.”

“Well, I can’t say I ever expected to hear that,” Neville muttered. “And I understand that your position is hardly tenable. The more people know about you the worse off you are. So I don’t tell you anything about the others and I don’t tell them about you. But it would be better for all of us if we worked together.”

Snape really wanted to sit down again. “I could find out who they are by digging in your mind.”

“Oh come off it,” Neville said. “You would have done that the first night if you were going to. Like in fifth year, when I know you still probably had plenty of the truth potion and refused to use it on us. You’re good at walking the line of threats with very little bite.”

“Open rebellion will only get you killed,” Snape said after a beat. “Or horribly,” and he trailed off at Neville’s expression. Of all the people in the school, he needed that warning least of all.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll try to figure something else out then.” There was a long moment of silence, Snape staring at him. “So? Are we helping each other or not?”

“There was once a time you were easily frightened,” Snape snarled, hands curling into fists.

“I was younger,” Neville shrugged it off.

“You still have no guarantee I’m on your side,” Snape said, leaning back against the desk and shaking his head. “I could betray you easily at any moment. Your trust is excessively foolhardy in a time such as this.”

“You gave us detention,” Neville rejoined. “In the forest. With _plants_. If you’re trying to be a scary death eater, you aren’t doing a very good job.”

Eyes narrowing, Snape tried not to let his face betray any of his emotions. “Did you think that was a favor to you somehow?”

The momentary pause said enough. “No,” Neville said, looking slightly to the side. “I would never be so foolish.”

“Potter would have,” Snape said before he could think of it.

“Yes, well,” Neville said, still not looking back at him though his mouth twisted. “I’m not Harry and never will be.”

“Still so insecure,” Snape sneered.

The way Neville’s attention snapped back and he squared his shoulders back took some of Snape’s breath away because there was nothing anymore to indicate the small scared boy of first year. His face was hardly round anymore and his eyes burned when they met Snape’s. There was only the curve of his chin and the color of his hair to remind anyone of the boy that had melted cauldron after cauldron.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said the words carefully and clearly.

“Alright,” Snape said and wasn’t sure why he accepted that, except he couldn’t seem to look away from the boy’s face. “So you believe you can trust me, for whatever reasons you have. What possible reason can you have for me to trust you?”

“That’s actually a question?” Neville asked. “You think I might turn around and turn you or my friends in to the dark lord?”

“Another Gryffindor once did,” Snape said with a tiny shrug and Neville sucked in a hard breath. “Or did you not know about that? Peter Pettigrew, for whatever reasons he may have had, betrayed his best friend and blamed it on the other before faking his own death.”

 “Alright,” Neville allowed, swallowing hard. “You have more to lose for being a traitor whereas at least everyone already knows which side I’m on. But I’m not Peter Pettigrew. I just want to protect the other students as best I can.”

“Just protect them?” Snape asked and Neville actually laughed.

He smoothed his face out almost instantly. “Alright. I wouldn’t mind wrecking the Carrow’s plans as much as possible in the meantime either. Trust me because you already have to let the conversation go on this long.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Let me help,” Neville said and there was really no reason at all those words should have made Snape lean forward and kiss him. They were no more brave or foolish than anything else he had said. But Snape’s fingers had curled around the back of his neck and pulled him forward without thought and he felt shocked at how Neville was barely shorter than him at all.

It was barely a kiss. He had time to feel the heat of Neville, to taste the outside of his lips and the texture of his hair beneath his fingers. There was time for Neville to gasp against his mouth and lean forward before they both jerked back, Snape using the hands that had been shoved into Neville’s hair to shove his shoulders back.

“What the hell?” Neville managed, and Snape wanted to scream at him because he said it in a quavering voice and his hand actually came up to touch his mouth.

At least, he was fairly sure he wanted to scream. “Get out.”

“What?” Neville looked at him, eyes dazed. “No, we—”

“Get. Out,” Snape ground from between his teeth. He stepped forward and loomed because he still had at least a little height on Neville, and years more experience of being intimidating. For a second though, it still looked like Neville might stay.

Instead he turned and ran out of the office, and Snape counted the number of steps he heard down the stairs, picturing Neville taking two at a time.

“Well, that was rather poorly done,” Phineas sniffed and Snape turned, hurling the inkwell at the portrait and trying not to feel a twist of pleasure when the portrait yelped and ducked out of the frame, muttering something about how far Slytherin house had fallen.

Snape watched the ink drip from the frame, before he leaned forward and gathered up the crystal shards of the inkwell which Neville had summoned earlier, repairing it with a flick of his wand. The ink he left there, to clean up in the morning if the house elves did not reach it first.

“Severus,” Dumbledore’s portrait started as Snape stalked past. “It’s not—”

“Be quiet,” he snarled and slammed his way into his private chambers, a long hallway connecting them to the office. He wished sometimes he was still in the dungeon, still deep in the castle and near the lake. Reaching the bedchambers he dropped into a chair in a pile of limbs and drew his knees up, huddled in on himself.

 _What the hell?_ he asked himself, only it sounded a lot like Neville’s voice.

-0-

He had been doing so well, Neville repeated to himself, back pressed into the stone wall and trying to force breath into his lungs normally. He had stood up to Snape, he even seemed to be laying out a case that made some sense when everything flipped and went wrong and he still could not place the moment when that had happened.

His fingers came up, barely brushing his lips before his breath caught and he scrubbed at his mouth viciously with the back of his hand. Neither motion helped nor seemed to improve matters.

 He’d never been kissed before, beyond occasional pecks on his temple or cheek from his grandmother when she felt particularly gracious or demonstrative, and one kiss smeared across his cheek from Ginny after the Yule Ball when she beamed at him and said she was glad they went together. She’d squeezed his hand too before heading up the stairs.

But none of those kisses had been like this, no matter how brief it was. There was barely time to feel the scrape of his fingers on the sensitive skin of his neck. Neville also decided it was fundamentally unfair that a mouth which could say such cruel and cold things could be that hot.

Hitting the stone behind him he pushed off and ran down the hallway, trying not to think about it. He turned around a corner, saw Peeves, and kept running.

“Someone would think you’re running from something!” Peeves called out after him and went back to throwing desks from the classroom into the hall.

“Keep up the good work,” Neville said and did not slow. But his body felt odd and even after the long run back to Gryffindor tower his mind remained focused on how it had felt to have Snape’s nose pressed against his, the briefest taste of him.

“I don’t like him,” he muttered. “I _don’t_ like _him.”_

“Like who dear?” the Fat Lady asked and Neville stopped, panting slightly as he looked up and realized he was already there.

“No—Oh—Nevermind,” he said. “Thestrals,” he added, as the portrait had decided it sounded appropriate for Halloween.

“If you’re sure you don’t want to talk,” she said and swung open.

“Quite,” he managed weakly and stepped through, instantly accosted by Ginny who grabbed his arm, having jumped over the back of the chair she was perched on.

“Where have you been?” she hissed, already pulling him back outside.

The Fat Lady sniffed at them. “Why come in if you’re only going to go out?” she complained and Neville shrugged apologetically as Ginny kept dragging him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Luna’s in the hospital wing,” she said and suddenly Neville was no longer being dragged but Ginny practically was because he had longer legs. She jogged a moment to catch up. “We snuck a first year out of detention and dropped him off at the Hufflepuff common room. I thought we’d gotten away with it but they must have found him pretty soon because they were coming to check if he was there. Luna shoved me behind a suit of armor but they got ahold of her. Her nose is broken, some torture after effects. Where the hell where you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking over at her. “I thought I had somewhere to be.”

“Did it work out for you?” she asked, looking sideways at him and he swallowed hard.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied.

Ginny gave him a considering look and he shifted his shoulders, desperately hoping she would not press the issue. Finally with a sigh she looked away. “Alright, fine,” she said under her breath. “Don’t talk to me. It’s not like we’re not risking our lives or in danger all the time.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, shoulders stiffening. “It’s not—” Except it was dangerous and likely only to become more so. “I’m being careful. I am.”

Her eyes flickered back up. “I just,” she started and shook her head. “I’m not interested in losing more people, alright? So that means you have to be careful.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “And you and Luna too, okay?”

“Yes, mother,” Ginny rolled her eyes and he stopped, pulling her arm around.

“No, don’t do that. You get to make me promise that and dismiss it in the same second, it doesn’t work like that. We’re in this together, we stay safe together, got it?”

For a moment she paused before finally nodding slightly. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll be careful too.”

“Thanks,” he said and forced a smile before Ginny nodded and they turned down the hall again, almost at the door of the infirmary.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked the moment he pushed the door open and Luna turned around to blink at him, her eyes appearing even wider than usual against her pale face.

“Oh, Neville,” she said, bandages over her nose and Neville frowned to see bruises along one cheek and on her hands. “I’m glad Ginny found you. I was worried.”

“You were worried,” he said faintly, approaching where she was sitting on the bed. “Did she fix…?”

“Oh, my nose is mostly fine,” Luna said with a vague smile. “And the bruises and shaking aren’t too bad anymore. Madame Pomfrey simply wants me to stay overnight to watch me.” Neville forced a smile and nodded, taking her smaller hand in one of his. Asking Luna to stay overnight meant the Carrows wouldn’t be able to come after her again.

“I’m glad,” he managed. “That it’s mostly fine.”

Luna nodded again, still smiling happily. “But you’re alright? Sometimes when you go missing like that I’m worried someone has caught you. I’m not sure, but I think Snape has been watching you more.”

Neville froze, and she brought her other hand to pat the back of his. “Snape?” he managed.

“Yes, he’s been watching you. And after the detentions and everything I was starting to wonder if he was simply biding his time.  And then we couldn’t find you tonight. So it made me worry.”

“I’m perfectly safe,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But thank you, I suppose.”

“I’ll always worry about you, Neville,” she said with another small nod. “But I’d like to sleep now.”

Raising his hand he ran it over her long hair and nodded. “Sleep well. We’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Yes, I expect I shall be out then,” she nodded and wiggled back to crawl under the covers, Ginny reaching out automatically to tuck the sheets up around her chin. “Thank you,” Luna beamed and Ginny nodded, the line of her mouth tight.

“Sleep well,” she said as they filed back out. “She seems fine.”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed faintly, hands shoved deep in his robe pockets as they made their way more slowly back to the common room.

“Do you think?” Ginny asked after a beat. “About Snape? That he’s just biding his time to really go after you?”

Neville bit back his first response which was a surprisingly virulent no. “I hope not,” he said, and realized his hand had come up to rub at his mouth again.

“You alright there, Nev?” Ginny asked, glancing up at him.

“Yes,” he said abruptly. “I don’t think he’s going after me in particular, and not in a negative way right now. There’s just, a lot of other stuff going on.”

“Other stuff?”

“Oh Merlin,” he managed and hid his face. “That was so lame. That’s not quite what I meant.”

“I just want to make sure you’re not, you know, ignoring something that could be dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted as the Fat Lady huffed at them as they approached.

“Would you ever make up your minds?” she demanded and Neville paused, looking up at her a moment before shrugging and stepping through. Making up one’s mind was only the start of the trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean it's only been two years and like three months.......
> 
> (Look the Cursed Child gave me FEELINGS okay) (Not matter how I feel about that book there were some feelings buried in there)

When Seamus entered the dormitory, Neville didn’t look up from where he sat against the foot of his bed, scrolls strewn around the room. “What happened here?” Seamus asked, stepping around a few of the scrolls that had been tossed away in annoyance.

“Oh,” Neville glanced up, blinking at him. “I was just… looking through some old papers.”

“Yeah?” Seamus asked, picking one up. “Is this from first year?” he asked in surprise before seeing the neat and angry scrawl of Snape’s grade on it.

“I suppose?” Neville said, not remembering which scroll had ended up closest to the door after he dug them all out of his trunk and started reading them.

“Man, you don’t keep all your essays do you?” Seamus asked, eyes widening as he looked at it.

“Actually, I do,” Neville said. He couldn't remember exactly why he kept the first few, probably desperation to figure out what he was doing wrong. But once he got into the habit he never bothered to break it. And after a few years it felt sad to just toss all the scrolls out at once.

A few times last year he had gotten through by imagining lighting them all up in a bonfire to celebrate graduating.

“You don't think you're going to find something out about Snape's mind by rereading all his angry comments on your work, do you?” Seamus asked and Neville paused.

“Maybe?” he offered.

“You're crazy, mate,” Seamus said, dropping down beside him and silently sorting the potions essays closer to him. They sat in silence for a while until Seamus suddenly snorted. “Oh look, here's an essay from Lockhart. What a bloke he turned out to be.”

Neville snorted. “Was it about his favorite color?”

“His dearest wish for world peace or something,” Seamus said, rolling it back up.

Neville laughed, and it felt creaky. “I would take another year of his classes than this one right now.”

Seamus' face fell and Neville wanted to smack himself. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah I would too.”

Looking down, Neville picked up an essay from when Snape taught Defense Against the Dark Arts and frowned. He compared the amount of writing on it to one of his potion essays and then went digging for the other Defense papers.

“Snape was always a dick, wasn't he?” Seamus said and Neville hummed. “Look, I found the essay on werewolves he assigned us in third year. Dean figured it out, you know, and I'm pretty sure Hermione did too. Dean told me he thought Professor Lupin was probably a werewolf after we turned in the essays but he was sure the administration already knew so it wasn't our place and besides, we all liked Lupin.”

“Really?” Neville looked up.

“That was the point of this essay though,” Seamus said, waving it around. “For the students to figure it out. He sort of discounted how much we're a loyal bunch though.”

“To be fair we aren't Hufflepuffs,” Neville said and Seamus chuckled, looking down at the essay again.

“I miss Dean,” he said, miserable, as he touched the edges of Neville's parchment.

Neville hesitated, reaching out and gripping Seamus' shoulder. Neither of them usually talked about how empty their dormitory felt now, missing three boys.

“Hey,” Seamus said instead. “Do you remember putting Snape in that dress and hat?”

Neville choked on air. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“I can't believe when you were thirteen he scared you most of all,” Seamus said. “Ever want to tell your third year self you would be standing up to him one day?”

“Honestly, I'd like my third year self to keep as much innocence as possible,” Neville said and Seamus sighed.

“Okay, excellent point.”

“He reminded me of it too,” Neville said, suddenly. “The Boggart I mean. When I was in detention.”

“What a _dick_ ,” Seamus said with feeling, a muggle insult he had picked up gleefully from Dean.

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, looking down at the essay from last year and the potion essays from years past. The Defense essay had barely been written on, and Neville's grade an afterthought, like Snape hadn't really read it at all.

-0-

Neville avoided looking at Snape for several days but he was ready to scream into his pillow because he was seventeen and suddenly knew what a kiss felt like. He tried to tell himself it was not about who kissed him simply that it had happened.

Halloween had never been a holiday Neville loved but he felt sick when the students walked into the Great Hall. Instead of the usual bright pumpkins and bats the place was draped in black and random screams were heard. Neville couldn't figure out if they were real or spelled to put people on edge.

Skulls were everywhere, and Death Eater masks and Neville didn't eat again all through dinner.

“Come on, mate, please,” Seamus said, but he looked a shade queasy too.

“It's fine,” Neville said instead of eating anything. When the first few students left, he allowed himself to leave the Hall too. Most of the students were still at the feast when he found himself in front of the Headmaster's office.

Snape didn't disappoint him, usually one of the first to leave the Great Hall when he bothered to show up at all. “Longbottom,” he said shortly.

Neville couldn't quite look at him and his words felt weak for being a week late already. “Everything I said still stands,” he firmly told the wall just beyond Snape's shoulder.

Snape stared. “You are—how stupid could you possibly be?”

“Stupid enough to trust you,” Neville said.

“At least,” and Snape was too furious, could only gesture to his office. “Before you open your _stupid_ mouth.” Neville blinked and stared at the revealed staircase a moment too long. “If you're afraid of this,” Snape started.

“I'm not—” Neville protested.

Snape's mouth twisted and he turned up the staircase, not looking behind to see if Neville followed.

“It was just a kiss,” Neville said to the stone. “It doesn't mean a damned thing.” Taking another breath he started up the stairs. When he emerged in the office, the portraits of past headmasters were staring down at him.

“Well, that boy is in the right house,” an old dumpy wizards said and Snape just turned and snarled at it before sitting down behind the desk.

Gingerly, Neville sat down across from him.

“Well then, Longbottom, what can I do for you?” Snape asked.

“Come on, we've already had this conversation,” Neville said.

“You ran away.”

“Doesn't mean we have to start the whole thing over again!” Neville said. “And I didn't just run away—you kissed me and then kicked me out. Don't blame me for that.”

“In the last week you've been tortured three times for talking back in class, have spent a night in the dungeon as detention, and managed to sneak five other students out of sharing the same fate,” Snape said and Neville blinked at him.

“Yes?”

“How exactly is that to convince me you're a worthy ally, worth trusting?” Snape asked.

“Because it means at least I'm fighting,” Neville said. “Would you like me to step it up?”

Snape actually snarled at him. “You sound like you are purposefully trying to make this harder on me, which I find far from flattering.”

“Not about flattering you,” Neville said. “Simply that we can work together and you can help guide us, or we can continue as we have been. Possibly even escalate it a little bit.”

“Are you actually trying to threaten me with your own safety?” Snape asked, sounding shocked.

“I'm fairly sure we would gladly commit full scale rebellion,” Neville said. “Want to give us a reason not to?”

“Because you would be dead!” Snape yelled, hands bracing on the edge of the desk. “This is not a game, Longbottom. It's not just the Death Eaters at this school, it's the very system. The Ministry is under dark control now, there is a trace on the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named. Hunters are out in the forests tracking down run aways and every other country in Europe has slammed their borders shut, hoping no one gets out to taint their own fragile worlds. How can a pack of students hope to rebel against that?”

“You sound like you've already given up,” Neville said, and finally met his eyes.

“I'm trying to be practical,” Snape said.

“Until what? Harry Potter comes and saves us?” Neville asked. “That's doesn't seem like you at all. I'd think you'd rather swallow acid first.”

“And why aren't you waiting for your perfect hero?” Snape asked snidely.

“Because the whole world can't rest on just him!” Neville said. “If we're going to save ourselves we have to fight too. Maybe I can't lead a rebellion into the heart of the Ministry itself, fine. But maybe I can save some first years. Maybe we can be an example for other's to lead. Maybe it's just a damned start and I refuse to back away from doing anything I can.” He closed his eyes. “And why are you so content to wait for him, anyway? You didn't answer.”

“Because Dumbledore believed he was the only one who could kill the Dark Lord,” Snape said quietly.

“Do you think if he died his whole apparatus would fall apart?” Neville asked. “His followers are in high positions of power now. Even with him dead it might take a war to oust them.”

“Really?” Snape asked, brows arching.

“I did actually pay attention in history,” Neville said. “Not the easiest subject, considering the professor. But the last few years I got pretty good marks there.”

“Are you trying to convince me to trust you just because you managed to scrape acceptable grades in your classes?”

Neville closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose before opening them again and meeting Snape's gaze. “We already had this conversation. So here it is. We have every reason not to trust each other. Tell me what you want us to do, what we can do, and I promise we'll try our hardest to avoid what you most want us not to do.”

“I'd rather you give up this whole crusade,” Snape said. “Petty reckless disobedience is not going to help you.”

“Well, it's a place to start,” Neville said and Snape looked angry again.

He rose, pacing back and forth a couple times before looking back. “Fine,” he said.

“I'm not going to give up sneaking kids out of detention,” Neville said. “Especially the first years.”

“And the graffiti?” Snape asked.

“That's morale,” Neville said.

“And you don't worry that anything we agree to isn't going to be scrutinized by your little friends?” Snape asked. “How can you guarantee they will actually go along with you?”

“Because we trust each other,” Neville said.

“They might not trust you by the end,” Snape said.

“Than I'll live with that,” Neville said, and found he was having trouble looking at Snape again, focusing his gaze on a few of the paintings instead.

Snape moved in front of him and Neville's gaze snapped up. “And the aberration of the other night—”

“It's fine, I've forgotten it,” Neville said too quickly, because he only wished that was true.

“With the way you're acting it's like it was your first kiss,” Snape said caustically and then stopped when Neville gave him a wide eyed, panicked look. “No,” Snape said faintly, looking horrified.

“Honestly, with everything you have ever said to me, that is surprising to you?” Neville asked.

Snape drew himself up, hiding whatever he felt beneath an ice cold mask. “My deepest apologizes then. I have no idea what came over me.”

“That of all the things is the one you apologize for,” Neville muttered. “Are you like to have a random bout of insanity again?” he asked, unsure if he felt hopeful or desperate to know it would never happen again.

Snape hesitated. “It is my intention not to.”

“Alright, than we can just move on and mutually forget that ever happened,” Neville said. “It doesn't affect anything else we have spoken of. We can still find some middle ground to keep the students as safe as we can. That is, after all, our goal? Both of us?”

“Yes,” Snape said.

“Than let's just work on that,” Neville said, eyes going over Snape's shoulder again and he thus saw it drop slightly.

“Yes,” Snape agreed, sitting down across from him and that meant Neville could pretend he didn't see how exhausted the other man was.

-0-

“Our goal is to stop antagonizing them in class,” Neville said.

“Shouldn't we be doing that _all the time_?” Ginny protested.

“It's a waste of our energy,” Luna said, peering around the corner of a book case to see if anyone was coming. “And our pain.”

“It's not a waste if it's making them angry and unfocused,” Ginny said.

“Have you noticed it making them unfocused?” Luna asked. “It just seems to make their focus more razor sharp. They don't even need the help of diadems.”

Neville glanced at her and decided not to ask about the second part. “The point is, we're suffering a lot of pain for not very much gain. If we focus our efforts on keeping kids out of detention and protecting them—”

“Are you sure that sounds like a good idea?” Ginny asked.

“What does that mean?” Neville asked and Luna brought her attention back on her two friends.

Ginny took a deep breath and had to take another one. “Sorry, Nev. I just think being like a swarm of stinging gnats is better than just letting them get away with what they say—”

“I know it's hard,” Neville said. “I know it's awful. But we're taking a lot of pain right now for no point. It's not like we're going to change their minds. We're yelling at a wall that punches us back. We have to focus on where we can make gains.”

“Students,” Ginny said. “Other students.”

“Quiet,” Luna warned suddenly and Ginny dipped her head down instantly over her book.

Theodore Nott came around the corner. “Ah, the little Gryffindors.”

“Good evening, Nott,” Neville said, meeting his eyes and smiling.

Nott scowled. “You know, you're all lucky you're pureblood—or close enough,” he added, looking at Luna who blinked back at him. “You're not on the list of original pureblood families, but your muggle blood is back far enough to almost be totally flushed out of you.”

“Oh, is it?” she asked. “How nice of you to go looking for me."

Something tensed in Neville's face and Ginny did not look up.

“And what are you plotting tonight, anyway?” Nott asked, straddling one of the empty chairs at the table, crossing his arms over the back.

“Homework, mostly,” Neville said.

“You're failing muggle studies,” Nott said.

“Imagine that,” Neville drawled.

Nott's smile was still relaxed as he looked between them. “You think you're so smart, don't you? So brave?”

“We are Gryffindors,” Neville said mildly. “And Ravenclaws. So we're probably smart and brave when combined. Now, if you're done checking up on us...?”

Nott smiled again and then rose. “For tonight, sure.”

Ginny watched him go. “That boy should never have been allowed near a power trip.”

“I think we are far to late to stop that from happening,” Neville said.

-0-

There was pain, there was pain everywhere and Neville couldn't breath, he couldn't think, this must have been what his parents felt like—

He had been breaking a first year out of detention. In his defense, for the first part of November he had been doing _well_. There were less fights in class itself, and he hadn't even seen this side of detention. But the girl was a Hufflepuff, whose grandmother was muggle, and who didn't understand the world she was walking in to.

Neville couldn't quite figure out how she hadn't understood two months into the school year, but he could not just leave her.

Only he got caught and now they were both paying and he couldn't catch enough air into his lungs to scream with so he curled on himself and wished it would just stop because he couldn't—

And even with the pain he kept thinking of the way his mother shuffled around the room, head tilted to the side and handing him gum wrappers and broken pottery shards like she was trying to give him a message, and his father who more often than not didn't bother to get up and even give him that, but who rocked back and forth, back and forth like he never got out of this pain—

It stopped abruptly and he was curled in a ball on the floor, breath catching painfully in his chest. He barely even noticed people talking before suddenly he was being hauled to his feet.

He groaned and let it happen, and when he was shoved forward, he stumbled but went, allowing whoever it was to push him where they wanted him to be.

He didn't even care, and though he had dealt with the Cruciatus Curse already that year, he was fairly certain that spell was the longest he had endured. Suddenly, whoever it was pushed him up stairs and the door closed and he started to realize who had stopped the curse.

“Longbottom,” Snape said and he was shaking so hard he couldn't stand up and Snape caught him. “You _idiotic_ boy.”

“I couldn't,” Neville said and his teeth started chattering. “The girl,” and he was shorter than Snape and those black billowy robes were apparently good for something. “I had to—”

“You didn't have to do anything,” Snape said.

“You can't control them, you know you can't,” Neville said. “You can waylay the worst of it but they torture students and you know it. They'd leave the purebloods alone if we let them but we can't.”

“You could be skating by,” Snape said. “You know that as well as everyone else does. You don't have to endure what your parents did.”

“Don't,” Neville said but for some reason he was still wrapped up in Snape's robe and he could pretend that the thought didn't bother him for just a few minutes more. “Don't talk about my parents, don't you—”

“I was in the Order with them,” Snape said quietly and Neville froze. “Just for a few months, really, I didn't join until after he fell, and after my trial, but there were still plenty of Death Eaters out there. Obviously. I was trying to help the Order with haunts and alibis. Your parents were Aurors, and they never trusted me, but I helped them catch several Death Eaters.” He paused and Neville's face was pressed into his chest. “Not enough, though. Not the ones that really mattered.”

“It's not,” Neville started, voice too thick.

“My fault? Of course it's not,” Snape said. “And also is. It always will be in some ways. Not mine alone of course, I am not the Dark Lord.”

Neville was still shaking and so he stayed where he was. “What did you tell them?”

“The Carrows?” Snape asked. “They believe what they want.”

“Which is that you're punishing me more,” Neville said.

“My past intense dislike of you apparently plays into my favor,” Snape said dryly.

“Past?” Neville murmured and Snape dropped him, stepping back. Neville flailed in the air before he caught himself, not looking at Snape.

“You should stay here a while,” Snape said. “To at least make that lie believable.”

“What about Melinda?” Neville asked.

“Of course you know her name,” Snape said, annoyed. “I did what I could, Longbottom.”

“Is that enough for you?” Neville asked, curious about the answer. “Doing what you can that's never actually enough? To see people hurt and only being able to stop a fraction of it?”

“You got caught,” Snape said, cold. “There's only so much I can do then.”

Neville looked down, flexing his hands and the shakes were still there. “You could have just walked past.”

“I could have,” Snape said. “Don't think I didn't consider it.”

“Was it because of my parents?” Neville asked, turning his hands over and Snape paused.

“In part,” he said. “Now, do please be quiet. I have work I need to finish. Fifteen or twenty minutes should be enough time. Try to look pained on your way out.”

Neville sank into the chair he had been chained to the first night. “Don't worry,” he said. “I think that will still be easy.”

-0-

“Ginny?” Neville asked. “You've dated.”

Ginny squinted at him. “Yeah?” she said, and they were shoved into the corner of the common room, long past when most people were asleep.

“I just mean,” Neville said. “You've kissed people, right? I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that you're not shy about it—”

“Where is this going, Nev?” Ginny asked and there was something in her expression, half-hurt and half-sad.

“It's just,” Neville started. “I've never actually kissed anyone. And then someone—someone did. And I can't stop, well, thinking about it. I don't even like them!” he added, furious at himself and under his breath.

The corners of her mouth were turned up. “Really? Your first kiss? How did that happen?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Neville mumbled, because he had been thinking about it for weeks now, and the other night when Snape had pulled him away from the Carrows and held him until he could stand himself made something confused and angry flutter in his chest.

“So why're you asking me about dating and kissing?” Ginny asked.

“Nevermind,” Neville said, staring at her.

She quirked her brows up. “You wanna try it and see if it's just that kiss that's messing you up, or if you've just discovered that it feels nice?”

“Aren't you dating Harry?” Neville asked after a beat.

“He dumped me,” Ginny said, her eyes bright and somehow Neville had missed that, with Harry just leaving like he had. “To _protect_ me.”

“Oh,” Neville managed. “It's just, I—” and before he could say he felt too odd about this whole idea, she was there, pulling his face closer and pressing their mouths together. Her hands were warm, and her lips warmer, and she smelled fantastic and her hair was soft and honestly this was everything Neville suspected a good kiss was.

It made his breath catch, it made his hands ache, and she was warm and felt safe and like he could get used to making his home in this space.

But it also didn't leave the same confused fluttering desperation that came when he thought about Snape and when they parted, he hung his head.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I'm sorry—”

“Hey, please don't apologize,” she said. “I shouldn't have just done that either. Come on Nev, you're one of the most important people to me in the world.”  


“Yeah?” Neville found himself asking.

“Yeah, and one kiss isn't going to change that one way or another,” she said, but the door was open to something more too. Something more because Harry wasn't there but they were. “I'm sorry, I did that mostly because I was mad at him.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Neville whispered.

“So,” she wouldn't quite look at him and he wouldn't quite look at her. “Did that make you feel the same way as the other kiss? Is it just kissing?”

“No,” Neville said.

“Maybe you need a bigger sample size,” she said after a beat and Neville went bright red just thinking about it.

“I am not going to go around asking people to kiss me,” he insisted.

“Might answer your question,” she said. “I'm pretty sure Lavender would do it if you asked.”

Neville scrunched his face up. “No, and don't you dare ask her for me. I don't want—it's not like that, alright? I'll figure it out.”

“Neville,” Ginny said, looking over at him. “I hope you know—we're friends. This is what friends do. You don't have to figure out everything by yourself.”

“I know,” Neville said and he reached out, squeezing her hand. “But this—this I might have to.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later and Neville had kissed Lavender Brown and also Seamus, which is how he found out that just before the end of sixth year Seamus and Dean had finally worked out their respective hang ups and started dating.

He had awkwardly held on while Seamus tried not to cry.

And none of the kisses confused him in the same way. He enjoyed them, because there really was something to why people liked doing this so much. But they weren't distracting, didn't make him stop and want to stare and possibly turn and run away.

Sometimes when he was out during the night, he would stop by the headmaster's office and Snape always seemed to be awake.

“Don't you sleep?” he asked, and Snape looked at him over his desk, unimpressed. “Don't you eat?”

“How much weight have you lost already this year, Longbottom?” Snape asked.

Neville lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Okay, point. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't sleep too.”

“You are not my keeper,” Snape said and handed him a sheet of crisp parchment, his spidery hand writing all over it. “This might help. The Carrows have been kind enough to tell me their plans for increased security in the hallways.”

“How incredibly giving of them,” Neville said and almost grinned. “Can't believe you wrote it down.”

“I expect you to eat it when you've memorized it,” Snape said dryly.

“And here I was just going to set it on fire,” Neville said lightly.

“I suppose with the right spell, if you don't cock it up, that could be acceptable.”

Neville stared at Snape for a moment, like he was considering seriously setting something on his desk on fire before he suppressed that urge. “I think I can make it work,” he said, and slipped back down the stairs.

The days almost blended together until Amycus stood at the front of the Dark Arts class. “Today we're going to start practicing Cruciatus on students who got detention last night.”

Neville tensed, looking frantically around the seventh year class room and suddenly, stupidly grateful Luna and Ginny were a year below. Somehow his eyes focused on Draco Malfoy's face, which was deathly pale across the room, packed between smirking Slytherins.

“No,” Neville said before he could stop his mouth.

Amycus stared at him, and then almost smiled. “Or we can practice on Longbottom.”

-0-

Snape swept into the hospital wing because he did have to scold Madame Pomfrey about supplies not so mysteriously going missing. It gave him a cover to find himself standing over Neville Longbottom, who lay there shaking and with a bleeding gash along one cheek.

“What, no hanger ons and well wishers?”

“It is past curfew,” Neville said, and his knees were drawn all the way up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as he lay on his side. “Should you be here?”

“I thought,” and Snape leaned over him, so it looked like he was angry and hissing a threat. “You agreed to not being tortured in class?”

“Special circumstances,” Neville said into his knees. “They want us to practice unforgivables in class.”

Snape paused because that had not been in the curriculum he had. “Ah,” he managed.

Neville's eyes flickered up to him and in the darkness it almost felt like they were in the safety of his office. “You sound concerned,” he said, and there was something wrong with the way he said it.

“We had a deal,” Snape said and drew back.

He honestly didn't want to examine why he felt furious. It would mean admitting he was furious it was Neville himself hurt, not an abstract anger at students being harmed under his watch. After all he knew going in to this year it would be a vicious balancing act to protect without ever looking like he was.

But there was something about the fact of Neville curled up and in too much pain to scream under the curse that took his parents from him. And he kept inviting it, all but daring the Carrows to come after him.

He was protecting the students too, by taking their punishment upon himself and it made Snape's hands shake in rage. The very last thing he had wanted to do was care about someone a few short months ago he would have willingly pitched off the top of a high tower.

Snape came to an abrupt stop halfway between Neville's bed and Pomfrey's office.

Neville still wasn't that far behind him and Snape wanted to stop and destroy something. Instead he forced his feet to keep moving, forced himself to scold Madame Pomfrey who only tilted her chin back at him, as defiant as the students.

He forced himself to walk back out of the infirmary.

-0-

“You've been acting differently,” Luna said, with her and Neville jammed into a window, somewhere half way to the astrology tower. A tapestry hung over the window and it was boarded up, allowing them a space almost no one else knew about.

Ginny had technically been the one to discover it, but she was with Ernie Macmillan elsewhere in the school. Neville hadn't asked what Ginny was planning and she hadn't told him. Sometimes not knowing was safer for everyone.

But he kept turning his hands over and over, nervous and desperate to know she was alright.

“What do you mean?” he asked, not quite looking at Luna, even though they were both squeezed on the same windowsill, Neville sitting with his back to it and his legs drawn up to his chest, and Luna with her back against the old window.

“You aren't as proactive,” Luna said. “Less desperate. More measured, more wary, and you won't stop staring at our headmaster when you see him.”

“Don't call him that,” Neville said automatically, because for everything it still hurt too much to know Snape stood in that role and not Dumbledore.

She stared at him, and Neville shifted uncomfortably.

“You still watch him,” she said.

“He's a danger, isn't he?” Neville asked.

“You don't watch the Carrows,” she said.

“You,” Neville looked at stone instead of at her, swallowing and pulling his knees closer. “You're just seeing things that aren't there.”

She considered again before nodding. “If you say so,” she said softly.

-0-

The Carrows were the worst, being the only new teachers at the school. The other professors were hyper aware of what lines they would cross without being torn from their places at the school and replaced with someone worse. They would be defiant only to the point where they were safe, because their main interest was keeping the students as safe as they could be for another year.

No one knew what the next year would bring after all.

But at first it had just been the Carrows, flinging torture and punishment around like the psychopaths they were.

Then the students realized they could join in.

Slytherin House split abruptly into two and no one really noticed. Some of the students took the Carrow's lead with what looked like ugly joy. The others never struck out but also never stuck up for anyone, too scared of stepping out of line.

Luna was the one who had to point it out to Neville, after she held him back from a sixth year Slytherin boy spitting on her. “Do you notice the ones following the Carrows are always the same students?”

“You mean the Slytherins?” he snarled, still wanting to go after the boy and probably get himself cursed again just for the pleasure of punching him.

“Neville,” Luna snapped, her voice unleashed from her usual dreamy tone and Neville almost instantly stilled. “We'll probably have to get used to that. And no, that's not what I meant.”

“What was?” Neville asked as Luna rubbed her cheek clean.

“Even among the Slytherins, only some of them are attacking,” she said. “They used to talk big like Nott but now they're actually attacking us. But it's always the same ones.”

“Malfoy hasn't,” Neville said and he hadn't realized it until the words were out of his mouth. “What the hell? Isn't he actually a _Death Eater_?”

“That is the rumor,” Luna said.

Neville scowled. “He doesn't act like it if he is.”

Luna nodded, and Neville walked with her all the way to her next class. It was foolish and wouldn't have helped anything, but he wanted to at least make sure the window for attacks was smaller against her. “There are some others,” she said.

“They still won't stand out against their own house,” Neville said, slightly disgusted.

“No,” she agreed. “They're probably afraid.” When Neville started to sneer something she laid a hand on his arm. “Not everyone can be a Gryffindor. That's why we have other houses.”

When she entered her class room she left Neville standing there, feeling like someone had hit him and it was probably Luna. Even after he had joined Dumbledore's Army in fifth year, even when he ran into battle in sixth year, and even now that he was daring the darkness to come after him at every move, he had always felt like maybe the sorting hat had been wrong.

He never thought of himself as being a Gryffindor.

“Oh,” he said to no one in particular and ran so he wouldn't be late to his next class.

-0-

The next day several students worked together to drop a hot cauldron over his head, soaking him with whatever greasy concoction was in there. When he got over the shock and pain enough to reach for his wand to clean it up and hopefully start to repair the burns, he was abruptly kicked in the back and watched his wand go skittering away across the floor.

He forced himself not to just give in and punch the other students—fifth years he thought idly, not knowing their names—and instead started for his wand only to have one of the students pluck it up and run off with it.

“Don't!” Neville called after the student, because that was his wand, the one that had _picked_ him and felt right in his hands and if they snapped it he had no idea what he would do for the rest of the year.

Another of the students, a bigger boy that Neville thought might have played Quidditch last year, slammed into his back and sent them both down. Neville's hair was still covered in whatever was in the cauldron, and there were still burns where the liquid had reached and he was skinnier and smaller than whoever this was.

“Neville!” he heard and thought it might have been Ginny yelling before Ginny and Seamus were both suddenly there, striking out at the students with their fists and elbows. It turned into a brawl and Neville should have expected this from the moment he saw something hovering above his head.

By the time Alecto was there, they all were bruised and greasy from the liquid left on the floor.

“What trouble makers,” she said. “All the Gryffindors will have detention tonight.”

Seamus tried and didn't quite succeed in cleaning Neville up on their way to their next class, but he had more practice with burns, casting what healing charms he could as they walked.

When they entered the classroom and Neville saw McGonagall clutching his wand he almost cried as she handed it back to him. “I saw this on my way down the hall,” she said and nodded at Flitwick before walking out, a hard line to her mouth.

Neville sat down, clutching his wand and Flitwick didn't call on him once in class.

Neville could even stand the pity in his face.

-0-

“If you cannot keep to the deal,” Snape started, the next time they met.

“What are you even talking about?” Neville said. “The deal was to be careful. I can't help it if I'm attacked my wand stolen and _then_ given detention! I was taken unawares is all. Which will not be happening again, not in that way. I'm sure they'll think of something else inventive—” He swallowed because Luna had been pushed down the stairs and only some quick thinking and a pillow charm had saved her from perhaps worse bruises.

Snape crossed his hands over his desk and seemed to be wrestling himself back under control. “I admit I did not expect this.”

“Should have,” Neville muttered. “We all should have seen this coming considering what bullies—”

“I seem to recall the sorting hat admonishing everyone to work together across the house divide not too long ago,” Snape drawled.

“Stuff the sorting hat,” Neville muttered. “None of them are stepping forward to help us either.”

“I am,” Snape said.

“Less forward, more sideways,” Neville snapped, not wanting to concede anything.

Snape's eyes narrowed. “I hate to defend moronic children, but do you honestly think everyone who was ambitious at eleven years old wants this?”

Neville stopped and frowned at him. “Luna pointed out it wasn't all of them,” he allowed. “Malfoy, for instance. He just stares but he hasn't _done_ anything all year.”

Something funny happened to Snape's face and Neville almost wanted to ask, almost felt something that felt annoyingly like jealousy flare in his chest. Which was pathetic so he stamped down on it without allowing any expression across his own face.

“That boy is in a difficult position this year,” Snape said softly.

“Aren't we all?” Neville asked.

“Not everyone has the Dark Lord inhabiting their house,” Snape drawled, anger under his voice and Neville froze. He thought about Draco's narrow and pinched face, and the way he wouldn't meet anyone's eyes anymore. Neville had never liked the other boy, had taken pride in punching him even when he was eleven years old.

But he had never thought of how different he was this year from past years and it made him sit down hard on the chair across from Snape. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Snape sneered. “Other children face parents who would call them blood traitors and send them to prison. Others a way of life they're unsure how to betray. Families that they love. Some just want power or glory or really are the bigots their parents raised them to be.”

“You were a Death Eater,” Neville said.

“Technically that can never be past tense,” Snape said. “So long as the Dark Lord lives, we are bound to him through his magic.”

Neville stilled, because rumors were one thing but no one really knew what that _meant_. “Did you join, always planning to be a spy?” he asked, softly. “Or did you believe it?”

Snape's eyes were cold when Neville looked back up. “I believed it,” he said. “However much someone can. I had few friends and lost the ones I did have. I was bullied and mocked and angry—”

“If you were bullied as a child and it drove you to the Death Eaters why the hell did you decide to do it yourself as an adult?” Neville asked before he could stop his mouth. “How does that even make _sense_? What did I _do_ to deserve—”

“You didn't do anything,” Snape said. “And believe me, I am ever increasingly aware of the differences between us as men.”

Neville stared at him, hesitant. “Was that a compliment?” he asked.

“It took the death of someone I loved to realize how wrong my path was,” Snape said. “Yes, it was a compliment. Don't expect more.”

“I hadn't expected the first one,” Neville said and Snape glared at him again.

“Try to avoid detention,” he said and Neville left feeling a little dazed.

-0-

“At least it's the holidays,” Neville said, getting on the train.

“Have you considered not coming back?” Seamus asked, stepping up behind him.

“What?” Neville asked, turning around and Lavender slid into the same compartment with them.

“I mean, I know it's mandatory,” Seamus said. “But I'm not looking forward to this vacation.”

“It's rather like going on leave from a war zone,” Luna said, curled up against Neville's side. “Knowing you're going to be going back.”

“It's going to make enjoying time with family hard,” Lavender said and Neville sighed.

“Of course I never considered not coming back,” he said and Ginny gave him a flickering smile as the Hogwart's Express pulled out. “It's not even about going in to hiding. But we can't just give up.”

Lavender shook her head slightly. “I'm not so sure it would be giving up. It seems like every few weeks it would escalate again. What if that keeps happening?”

“We're students,” Neville said. “And some of us at least are pureblood. They wouldn't want to waste that blood, not yet.”

“Sure, they might just lock us up and command us to breed to keep the lines pure,” Ginny said and Neville stared at her for a shocked moment too long.

“What?” he managed.

“You're even from one of the sacred twenty-eight,” Ginny said.

Neville gave her a dark look. “Your family was on that list too.”

“I'm so glad mine wasn't,” Lavender said and Seamus nodded.

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “They were but we've been known blood traitors even before that and poor as church mice to boot. Longbottoms though, you'd bring prestige.”

“Sure, as a target,” Neville said.

“Don't think you'd ever, you know, want to use that?” Seamus asked. “You'd be protected, you'd be safe.”

“I know it's been a long few months,” Neville said, carefully calming himself before speaking so he wouldn't snap. “But no, I've _never_ considered using that.”

“We're all tired,” Luna said softly, stopping the conversation before it could turn into an actual fight.

“Yes,” Lavender agreed. “We are. Do you want to get something from the trolley witch, maybe,” and when she opened the compartment door, there were Death Eaters in their robes on the other side. Everyone sprang to their feet, Lavender stumbling back.

“What the hell do you want?” Neville asked, and one of the Death Eaters reached for Luna, dragging her forward. “Hey, stop—”

He was shoved back and the compartment turned into a panicked mess of movement but when it ended, Luna and the Death Eaters were gone and Neville was screaming.

-0-

His grandmother stared at him and then made him tea the instant they came home.

Neville blinked owlishly at the cup and then up at his grandmother. “Gran, what—”

“You can tell me whatever you like about that school,” she said and her eyes were shining. “Or you can tell me nothing. But don't think I don't recognize the signs of _that_ curse.”

Neville's jaw worked before he finally nodded.

“You don't have to go back,” she said.

“Yes I do,” Neville said, and he spent all break sleeping and practicing spells in the basement, singeing the old walls.

-0-

Draco Malfoy cornered him on the Hogwart's Express, between the last train compartment and the bathroom. He shoved Neville into the bathroom and locked the door.

“What the fuck,” Neville started, already starting to push back at the slighter boy.

“Stop it,” Draco hissed and cast a couple charms at the door. The bathroom on the train wasn't very large and Neville was trapped between the toilet and standing too close to Malfoy. “Stop it, I just want to tell you that Looney—I mean Lovegood is alive.”

Neville stopped abruptly, but he didn't let his arms fall. “What?”

“Your friend, she's alive,” Malfoy said, his face possibly more pinched than it had been. “Don't make me spell that out for you. She's at—well, she's in the dungeons at Malfoy manor.”

“Of course you have dungeons,” Neville snarled and Draco shoved him back, almost making him fall over the toilet and he barely caught himself by throwing out both arms and bracing on the wall.

“It's not my fault,” Malfoy said, shoving him again with no strength behind the motion, so Neville remained where he was. “It's not my _choice_.”

Neville pushed himself back upright, and they were still too close in the tiny space. “Draco,” he said, choosing to use the boy's first name at the last moment. “Draco, you know you don't have to—”

“Is this a recruitment speech?” Malfoy demanded. “Have you lost your marbles, Longbottom?”

“We could—”

“No,” Malfoy said and when he threw his arms against Neville's chest again, his sleeve rode up, showing only the tiniest sliver of black ink on his forearm. Neville's eyes were drawn to it and Malfoy followed his gaze. “Don't you see?” he asked, tugging the sleeve up slightly more.

“Did you want it?” Neville asked, and so much for that rumor being only a rumor.

“He lives in my house,” Malfoy said slowly. “He took my father's wand. He will _kill_ them, he will kill _me_.”

“You don't,” Neville started.

“I just wanted to tell you your friend was alive,” Malfoy said, and dragged his sleeve back down. “Don't see more into this than that.”

“You haven't joined your classmates,” Neville said. “In what they're doing.”

“Don't read more into that either,” Malfoy snapped and threw the door open, looking both ways before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Neville waited for a while before he left too, finally returning to the compartment just in time for Ginny to storm to the door. “We were going to go looking for you!” she said, and punched him in the arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Where were you?”

“Sorry,” Neville said, rubbing his arm. “Luna's alive, though.”

Ginny's entire face changed and she sat down hard. “Oh,” and she put her head in her hands but Neville didn't think she was quite crying. So he sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her back until the train rolled back into Hogwarts.

-0-

Snape sent a note to him at dinner.

“You can't be in trouble already,” Ginny said.

“Don't go,” Seamus said and it echoed the beginning of the year.

“I'll be fine,” Neville said and set fire to the note, leaving it burning in the middle of the table, where everyone from the staff table could see it. McGonagall's face was stony, and Snape's mouth curled up into a sneer.

“After that display you won't be,” Seamus remarked and Neville left the table.

When he made his way to Snape's office, he found the Carrows waiting down below, sneering. “How did you get into trouble so fast?” Alecto asked.

Neville just smiled and waited for the stairs to come down, pretending not to know the password.

“Is there a reason you are here?” Snape asked, walking down the stairs.

“We're curious is all,” Amycus said.

“I have no use for you,” Snape said. “Longbottom,” he snapped and motioned him to go up the stairs first. Neville swallowed and obeyed, hoping he looked contrite and scared enough.

“That was risky,” he said, turning once Snape was in the office and the door closed behind them. “This is risky. What is it you want?”

“I wanted to tell you about Luna Lovegood,” Snape said and Neville gaped at him before he forced his jaw shut.

“Draco Malfoy already did,” he said, trying to figure out how to feel about Snape risking so much just to assure him—

“Did he?” Snape asked, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“How many Slytherins are doing what they are out of fear?” Neville asked, looking down at his hands.

“Enough,” Snape said. “And at the same time, not enough of them. Plenty are willing to believe what brings them to power.”

Nodding, Neville looked back up at him. “Do you think, do you think they'll let her go?”

Snape slowly shook his head. “I don't think they'll hurt her,” he said. “There's another prisoner down there. She was taken because of her father's press.”

“Oh,” Neville said and felt sick. “The Quibbler, you mean. For printing the truth.” Snape nodded and Neville wanted to punch a wall. “Thank you,” he said instead. “For telling me.”

“It's the least I could do,” Snape said and looked away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I have too many feelings about these morons since I wrote TWENTY PAGES of this story today, give or take a page. 
> 
> "Who Will Save You Now" by Les Friction and Bastille's cover of "Locked Out of Heaven" both came up on shuffle while writing this chapter. Along with plenty of other music but those two songs in particular are regrettable.

Neville was getting used to being spat on, and tripped, and having his book bag knocked off him or the strap spelled broken. Those were minor infractions compared to when the Carrows caught him doing something more daring.

Some of the Ravenclaws had joined with the Slytherins, and he heard a few of the first and second year Gryffindors wonder out loud if they might not go the same way. When he towered over them, they actually looked terrified and ran away.

That made him slink away for the rest of the night and hide in the dormitory.

Outside the dormitory the world was harsh and painful and sometimes in the morning he just wanted to stay in bed, claim being sick and hide. But he forced himself up, showered, and then faced the day of petty and less petty abuses.

Lavender and Parvati waited for him at the bottom of the stairs outside the Great Hall one morning. “There's been rumors,” Parvati said, and her long hair was still smoothed back into one plait but her eyes were shadowed and her uniform was less neat than it had been in former years. “They're going to keep teaching us unforgivables.”

“Where did you hear it?” Neville asked as they started up the stairs.

“From Zabini,” she answered and Neville decided not to ask when they talked.

“I thought he didn't like half-bloods,” he said instead and decided that was worse.

Lavender glared at him but Parvati squared her shoulders and leveled him with a look. “Be that as it may, I do not think he would lie to me.”

Neville nodded, accepting what she wasn't telling him. “If we started with the Cruciatus, than what one is next? Imperius?”

“I find it odd they would be willing to teach that to all of us,” Lavender said.

“Unless they're only planning on teaching it to some students and using the rest of us as test dummies,” Parvati said. Neville stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“Can you go to Madame Pomfrey?” he asked. “Say you have a bad stomach, anything?”

“You mean to miss class?” Lavender asked.

“Yes,” he said, horribly afraid she was right about what role they would play in class.

“We've already been taught somewhat to resist it,” Parvati pointed out. “It was,” she swallowed. “The headmaster who taught us, last year.”

“Did you do well in those lessons?” Neville asked.

Both girls shook their heads after a moment.

“I don't know what they're planning to do with us, but not being there might be the wisest choice.”

“What about you?” Lavender asked and Neville opened his mouth. “Oh don't, Neville! Don't act so strong when the rest of us are too! We can all face it together or we all go to Madame Pomfrey, do you hear me?”

Neville's shoulders slumped. “Alright,” he said.

“You had no intention of following your own advice, did you?” Parvati huffed.

“No,” Neville admitted and Lavender hooked one of her arms through his as they started down the corridor, a hard set to all their faces.

“Don't be so impossible, Neville,” she said and Neville almost found himself smiling as they passed Snape, who was sweeping the other way down the corridor. For a second Neville thought he looked annoyed but then he was gone.

-0-

When they reached class, the Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws were huddled next to Amycus, the other students at the far end of the hall. “Damn,” Neville said under his breath and at least Luna wasn't here, at least Ginny was still in sixth year.

But Parvati and Lavender and Seamus clustered around him and they stood, proud together as Ernie and Hannah joined them. “Do you think,” Ernie started in a whisper.

“Yes,” Neville said and eventually all the seventh years in Dumbledore's Army had clustered together, scared and chins up.

When Amycus broke the class up and sent his students to find victims, Neville found himself staring at Draco Malfoy, who Zabini kept throwing looks at. “So what's the secret then?” Neville asked.

“You have to mean it,” Draco muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Or you'll be hurt along with them.”

“And do you?” Neville asked. “Mean it?”

Draco met his eyes. “You have to,” he said and Neville wished he could have braced himself for what happened next. But he realized that somehow he still underestimated Draco as the scared child who he had revealed himself as, the one who didn't really want to do this.

But Neville found himself unable to move or speak and bucked wildly against the magic in his mind. His willpower was strong, it was stronger than it was, it _had_ to be—

“Good,” Amycus said, approaching behind Draco, and they were both Death Eaters, so Draco shouldn't have looked so scared and Amycus shouldn't have looked so predatory. “You should have Longbottom walk off the landing, to see if you can command him to do something he really doesn't want to.”

Draco tensed and for a second his control loosened. Neville barely jerked himself before Draco focused on him again. “But that's a two story drop,” he said. “If the stairs haven't moved in the way.”

“He'll survive it,” Amycus said.

Draco looked at him for a second too long, his eyes too open and how did anyone think making that boy a Death Eater was a good idea—but then he commanded Neville out the door and off the landing.

-0-

Neville woke up in the hospital wing, just in time to see Snape swoop in, both the Carrows there and smirking. No students were around and Madame Pomfrey looked ready to shove the Carrow sibblings down some stairs to see how they felt about it.

“What is this?” Snape asked, voice low.

“I cannot protest their disciplinary measures,” Pomfrey said, furious. “But this is too much. To command a student to send another student off a two story landing during class—it is just too much.”

“Longbottom is a traitor,” Alecto said, silky smooth and smirking. “He is in detention as often as not. This is just another punishment for his infractions.”

Snape met his eyes, expression furious, and Neville pushed himself further back into the bed. He wished he wasn't laying down when they had this fight.

“You were teaching your students the Imperius curse in class?” he said.

Amycus shrugged. “Yes. We started with the first and—”

“You are having them practice it on other students,” Snape said.

“What else would they—”

Snape took a step toward him, and McGonagall ran into the room then. For a second Neville wondered why, before remembering she was head of his house. “What,” she started but Snape cut her off, still staring down the Carrows.

“I have never given you permission to teach the Unforgivable Curses to students,” he said.

“The Dark Lord—” Amycus started.

“Do you really think you know his mind better than me?” Snape roared, and McGonagall came to a dead stop. “Teach them the third and final curse, I do not care. But do not you dare have them practice on other students. Find birds or cornish pixies, I do not care. But if you kill a single student, or allow them to kill each other, it is me you will answer to, not the Dark Lord.”

McGonagall's face had gone white, and she glared at Snape with her mouth pressed together. Neville's own stomach had dropped and he wanted to curl up and whimper. He at least knew what Snape was doing but to hear him give permission to teach the killing curse on any level was enough to make him want to scream.

Amycus opened his mouth.

“No,” Snape snapped. “Do not. The student's lives are not yours to play with. Torture them, hurt them, but never ever kill a single one of them. It is worth more than your life to make that decision.”

“Fine,” Amycus said, and stormed out of the hospital wing, his sister following, leaving McGonagall and Snape and Pomfrey behind. For a second, Neville remembered that they had all been on the staff for years together and maybe—

“Severus,” McGonagall said tightly. He stared back at her silently. “I would like it if you would leave me with my student now.”

Implicit was that it was Snape's fault he was here, and Pomfrey's expression backed that up. Neville wanted to open his mouth, to say it wasn't Snape's fault, because with another headmaster the killing curse would be practiced on all of them.

He didn't want to think himself too arrogant to think with the way things were going it would have started with him.

It might still, Snape's orders or not.

“Very well,” Snape said instead and he looked at Neville again, who forced his expression calm as he looked back. Then Snape was gone.

McGonagall sagged, sitting on the edge of Neville's bed. “Longbottom,” she said, voice breaking on his name and Neville reached out one of his aching arms, laying his hand on her's.

“It's okay,” he whispered. “I'm going to be okay.”

She bowed her head and clutched his hand. “What a man you've become, Longbottom.”

He didn't say he didn't feel like much of a man at all.

-0-

When he was released from the hospital wing, it seemed like all of Gryffindor was waiting for him, solemn faced and proud.

“It wasn't even the worse fall I've taken,” he tried to insist.

The next morning, Hannah pulled him aside in Herbology and Professor Sprout let them go in to another of her greenhouses. “What is it?” Neville asked, panic clogging his throat but she only threw her arms around him.

“I couldn't do it,” she said. “What you're doing.”

“Well,” he said. “I hear that's why there's more houses than Gryffindor.” He realized it sounded arrogant and winced, wanting to add that he simply meant he didn't want anyone to do what he was doing, and not everyone had to be so brave they were stupid.

But she just gave him a faint smile, standing back down on her heels. Neville had never realized he was getting so tall until he found himself looking down at her. For a second they were too close, and part of Neville wanted to sink down into her warmth again, and make a home there if it meant forgetting for a second everything else around them.

“I'm still just,” she shook her head. “I want you to know—I care about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt.”

Neville gathered her back up in his arms and hugged her tightly for perhaps a moment too long. “Stay safe too, will you?” he asked. “We all have to stay safe.”

“I've not attracted the attention you have,” she pointed out.

“Still,” he said, squeezing her again and for a moment it just felt good and warm before he pulled away.

-0-

Of course even then it was only another month before he was cornered again, in the early days of February. Crabbe and Goyle found him in the third floor bathroom and shoved him into one of the sinks, bending his back over it painfully.

“Not again,” Neville said. “What do you want?”

“You know, we've been learning new things,” Goyle said, and his smirk made him look neither stupid nor slow but only vicious.

“Have you?” Neville asked.

“Don't sound so surprised,” Crabbe said, poking him in the side with his wand and Neville winced.

“It's not disbelief,” Neville started and bowed over with pain, the familiar curse running through him. It was nothing like when one of the Carrows performed it, still sloppy, but it still _hurt_ , and he clutched his stomach and bit his cheek hard enough to bleed to keep from crying out. “That's the best you have? That's not new—”

But then Goyle said something else and Neville felt like his flesh was being sliced apart and he dropped. Dazed, he saw blood seeping out from beneath his uniform and whatever that curse was, it hadn't torn his clothes, just _him_.

He drifted for a while, so high on pain it felt distant until suddenly Snape was there, grabbing him and muttering a countercurse. He had to repair each slash on its own and it took long enough that Neville passed out during the process.

He was slapped awake, Snape glaring at him. “And in a bathroom too,” he said. “You're lucky Malfoy knew to find me.”

“What was that?” Neville asked, unable to focus his eyes.

“A very dangerous curse for enemies,” Snape said. “You could have died.”

Neville nodded, only his head felt too heavy and it fell against Snape's chest instead. “Why did you come? Isn't that stupid?” he slurred, and realized they were in Snape's office again. How they got there, he couldn't quite remember.

“As I am the only one who knows the countercurse, and have insisted no students die on my watch, it is more advisable than it appears,” Snape said.

“Why are you the only one who knows?” Neville asked.

“Because I invented the curse. It could perhaps have remained my secret if Potter hadn't discovered it.”

Neville blinked, wanted to know, and decided not to ask. “It still hurts,” he said instead. “Everything hurts.”

“Wait,” Snape said and lowered him back on the ground. His movements were jerky but he didn't just drop Neville, which seemed promising. He came back a moment later, pulling Neville back up into a half sitting position. “Drink this.”

“Do I get to ask what it is?” Neville asked and Snape narrowed his eyes, holding the potion against Neville's mouth and Neville drank it. It sent some of the pain away, and cleared his head slightly, though every movement still felt heavy and slow.

“You're lucky to be alive,” Snape said, and he was angry.

Neville squinted at him, at the fact Snape's arm was still the only thing supporting him. They had not been this close since—since—

“Did you ever figure out why you kissed me that time?” Neville asked and Snape stared at him.

“I thought we were forgetting that—”

Neville kissed him before he could finish and they both froze, tense and uncertain.

“Why did you do that?” Snape asked, when Neville pulled back after a few horrible seconds of them both with their mouths together, neither moving.

“I don't know,” Neville said.

“Don't give me that,” Snape snarled and Neville kissed him again. Snape growled, and shoved him back, and Neville was still mostly on the floor in his office, so he fell flat on his back, Snape's hands pressed into his shoulders. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Neville said, and realized Snape must have been so desperate to finish healing him he just dropped him inside the door. At least Neville hoped that's why they were on the floor here. “Because I don't get what else I want anymore.”

“I am not a consolation prize,” Snape growled, his fingers digging in to Neville's shoulders, and Neville still ached, still felt dizzy and heavy but he raised his arms anyway, touching one hand lightly to Snape's chest, the other covering one of the hands on his shoulder.

Snape let out a long, low breath.

“I still want to,” Neville said.

“Have you forgotten who we are?” Snape asked, but there was something in his expression, a moment when he might break.

“No,” Neville said. “No, but, please.”

“You're a child,” Snape said.

“I'm of age,” Neville said. “I turned seventeen in July—”

“I could never forget when you were born,” Snape said and Neville hesitated, unsure exactly what that meant or how he should react. “You are still a child. I could be your father.”

Neville smacked him. “But you're _not,_ ” he said. “My father is—”

“That doesn't change what a bad idea this is,” Snape said.

“Are you trying to talk me out of this or yourself?” Neville snapped, still flat on the ground and the portraits, he thought suddenly. They were paint of dead men and women but they were all watching, and he could faintly hear some of them stirring. He wondered but then decided he could hardly be the first student a teacher or head master had an affair with, considering the length of Hogwart's history. He probably wasn't the stupidest student t enter this office.

“Why do you want this?” Snape asked, and there was something hesitant in his face.

“Because I do,” Neville said. “Believe me if I could figure out why I want to kiss you over Lavender or Hannah or hell, even Seamus I would be much happier but I can't, I just keep thinking about it, and everything you're doing, and everything you're risking and I _hurt_ thinking about it and I want something—something I don't know but I think it starts here and you kissed me first—”

“A minor moment of insanity,” Snape said.

“No it wasn't,” Neville insisted. “Tell me why—”

Snape kissed him suddenly, pressing his head back against the ground and Neville figured it was to shut him up. But it made him feel light and floaty and he wrapped one of his hands around the back of Snape's head, holding on. He opened his mouth because he had learned from Lavender that made it feel even better and he felt and heard it when Snape groaned against him, his fingers still digging into Neville's shoulders.

Then Snape's tongue was inside his mouth and it should probably have felt less wonderful. He had after all almost just died, and this was Snape, who had greasy hair and a scowl and Neville just pulled him closer, his other arm going to wrap around Snape's back.

“You foolish, beautiful boy—” Snape murmured.

“Tell me it's not because I'm pureblood,” Neville said, and arched off the ground when Snape nosed against his neck, breath hot against his skin there, and then dragged his teeth down Neville's throat.

Snape chuckled. “No, it's not. In fact this would probably be considered, hm,” he hummed when Neville gasped again, feeling too hot and over sensitive to his open mouth on his collarbone. “Quite inappropriate. You're the last of your line after all, one of those damn Sacred Twenty-Eight families. You should marry some proper pureblood girl, like Parkinson,” and Neville choked on air, caught between a laugh and a moan. “Not a homosexual dalliance.”

“I would never sleep with Pansy Parkinson,” Neville said, and had to stare at the ceiling.

“That's good to hear,” Snape said and he looked back up, meeting Neville's eyes. “This is not a good idea,” he said, serious, and Neville felt like he had been flayed all over again, Snape warm on top of him.

“I don't care.”

“Yes, you do,” Snape said and came back up to kiss him again, light and brief and Snape's breath tasted better than Neville expected it would. “You have to care.”

“You're the one who said I could have died today,” Neville said. “Or when Amycus decides to disobey you.”

“Don't make choices because you think you might die tomorrow—”

“When else am I gonna make them right now?” Neville asked.

“This is a disaster,” Snape said again and Neville slid both his hands down to the small of Snape's back, holding on.

“Shut _up_ ,” Neville said and realized his hips were twitching, trying to press closer.

Snape's hands were suddenly there, pressing them down and Neville gasped, jerking against the grip.

“No,” Snape said.

“What?” Neville blinked, trying not to try and buck out of Snape's grip. “Why not?”

“You're too young,” Snape sighed. “If you ask a question like that—I will not have sex with you moments after you almost died and I had to stitch you back together with magic and potions.”

Neville felt his jaw work, his throat jump, and Snape's hands on his hips felt like a burning brand. “Oh,” he managed, barely not a moan. Snape gave him a narrow eyed look. “But you would—you will? Later?”

Something flared in Snape's eyes. “You're a foolish boy,” he said, but he bent down and kissed Neville again, allowed him to arch his neck up into it. “I should not allow this—”

Neville grunted, and bit his lip. “Please,” he said and that seemed enough to make Snape fold, and he didn't protest it again. He just rolled off Neville and they lay there, pressed together on his office floor for a while.

“This is a bad idea,” Snape said. “I'm worried I want it just to have something to control.”

“Let's just survive for now,” Neville said. “Figure out if maybe we fucked up later. When it's over.”

“We might not survive until it's over,” Snape said.

“And we might just,” Neville said, and kissed his nose, his cheek and now that he had started touching, stopping seemed too hard.

“This is hormones,” Snape said. “Constant near death experiences, it's circumstance—”

“Maybe,” Neville said.

“You should do this with one of your own class mates,” Snape said. “I'm sure there are volunteers.”

“No,” Neville said. “I want this.”

“You unbelievable—” and Neville covered his mouth before he could finish.

Later he would realize no portrait had spoken up, perhaps for the first time since he had entered that office.

-0-

Ginny's eyes were red when he climbed through the portrait hole. She threw a cushion at his head. “You weren't in the hospital wing!” she yelled. “Where were you? We looked for you everywhere, there was blood still all over that bathroom, Merlin's balls, Neville, why would you do that to us!” She threw another pillow at his head.

“I'm sorry,” Neville said and Ginny had never cried where he could see it since the year started. She had swallowed her pain down and tipped her chin back and glared at the world.

But now in the middle of the common room she stopped yelling and started sobbing, burying her face in her hands.

“Gin,” Neville said, and he was still in enough pain he was moving too slow, and it felt like it took forever before he could reach her. Once there, he wrapped his arms around her, and she felt too small against him, shaking and crying.

“We couldn't find you,” she said, and hit his chest weakly, but he still winced. “All we heard was that you were bleeding and Snape was there and then we couldn't find you. I thought you were _dead_ , Neville. How could you—are you alright?” she looked up, and Neville nodded.

“I'm going to be,” he said. “I'm going to be okay.”

She sobbed again, burying her face against his chest and he held on. Everyone still in the common room stared at them and Neville didn't care, gently rocking her back and forth.

“What happened?” she asked finally.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” he said quietly. “They cornered me.”

“And Snape?”

“He healed me,” Neville said, weighing the pros and cons of truth or lies. But others had seen it, including Draco Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle. “He doesn't want students to be killed.”

“Unless he does it himself,” Ginny muttered angrily and Neville just rocked back and forth again, not saying anything about the way Snape looked at him in angry shock, or the way he held on like Neville was precious just for wanting him. Snape, who had resigned himself to being lonely and hated.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “Either way. He yelled at the Carrows about it too. Said it was for the Dark Lord or him to decide, not them. Or apparently the other students.”

“Self serving bastard,” Ginny muttered.

“Yeah,” Neville said and the lie felt easy when he still felt euphoric from Snape's hands and his mouth.

 


	6. Chapter 6

McGonagall called Neville out of the Dark Arts the next day.

Neville looked uneasily around the office as he moved for the chair across her desk. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” she said, shuffling her papers and Neville remembered when she had looked so severe and forbidding when he was a kid. Now she looked exhausted, though no less precisely put together. “What happened yesterday—”

“I'm fine,” Neville said automatically. “Almost wasn't, but I'm fine.”

Her eyes flashed as she stared at him. “It should never have happened.”

“Lots of things shouldn't have,” Neville said and her mouth twitched, and Neville was unsure if it was into a smile or frown.

“No, you're right about that. I know you have taken it upon yourself to be a target,” she continued and Neville sat in stony silence. “But try and make yourself less of one.”

“Sure,” Neville said and they both knew he didn't mean it.

-0-

Neville caught Snape's eye at dinner and forced himself to look away, feeling hot all over. It had been bad enough, curled up behind the curtains of his bed and _wanting_ the night before. At least he had the soreness of the spell to distract him.

Seeing Snape again made everything too real all at once.

He forced himself to look at the plate in front of him.

“What's wrong?” Ginny asked at his elbow, Lavender squinting at him.

“You look a little queasy,” she said. “Do you need something for your stomach?”

Neville almost laughed and shook his head. “No, no,” he said and looked at Ginny, frowning at him, her straight red hair twisted up at her neck, sloppily forced into a bun. He wished, more than ever, that he could tell her, that he could have been honest with Luna.

She would have called him mad, probably punched him in the face as much for exposing himself to Snape as being willing to kiss him. But he wanted to tell someone, to let those he cared for most understand he was shockingly, stupidly happy among all of this.

“I'm fine,” he said instead and he could feel Snape's gaze, all the way across the Great Hall.

-0-

He stayed away for three days and then gave up.

Snape looked up as he entered the office and his face flickered. “And what can I help you with tonight, Longbottom?” he asked.

Neville swallowed, forced himself not to smile and sprawled in the chair across from Snape. “That spell you said you created—” He should not have brought it up he realized all at once, as Snape's eyes went dark. “I just wanted to make sure. I think it's all healed, but where the wounds were still ache. And they're still there.”

“It will scar,” Snape said. “It,” and he looked away.

Neville knew that Snape could be cruel but he felt like he had been given too much insight to know that Snape had designed a spell that was designed to scar, no matter how quickly magical healing was applied.

“It's okay,” Neville said, not sure if he meant it.

“It will feel better in a few days,” Snape mumbled and Neville thought for a second that if he got up and walked out the door, told Snape he had come to his senses and this was mad, Snape would look at him with empty eyes and let him.

“Good,” Neville said and did not move.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” Snape asked, staring at him.

Neville shifted and he felt brave when he opened his mouth. “You mentioned that you loved someone,” he said. “When you were still a Death Eater.”

“Yes,” Snape said slowly.

“They must have been dead almost seventeen years then,” Neville said.

“Yes,” Snape ground out, and his hands were white on the table.

Neville's mouth dropped slightly before he clicked his jaw back together and swallowed. “And in all that time. Surely there must have been someone else. Even that you just liked. Or tolerated. I know you're not big on tolerating most people.”

Snape openly glared at him and it had been a while since Neville earned that expression. “No,” he said, biting the word off.

Neville felt his heart flutter in his chest. “No?” he repeated weakly.

Snape's expression flared as he realized why Neville was asking. “No,” he repeated. “I loved her with all I thought I had. No one else has managed to hold any of my regard.” Snape paused. “Ironically, she was in your house too.”

“I don't believe it,” Neville blurted. “Really?”

“I admitted to being attracted to your madness, didn't I?” Snape snapped.

“Right,” Neville said and was a little uncertain how he felt being compared to whoever else it was that Snape had loved. It felt too close like Snape was admitting something else, about how he felt about Neville. “It's ironic, though, isn't it? I just didn't expect that from you. Always interested in Gryffindors—”

Snape rose and Neville followed him with his eyes, breath hitching.

“Are you done?”

“I can be,” Neville said and Snape leaned over him, hands on the back of the chair.

“Good,” Snape murmured and Neville kept his hands on the chair arms only by force of will. “I can think of more useful things for your mouth to do anyway.”

“Ughn?” Neville managed and Snape kissed him, softly, hesitantly, and Neville wrapped his arms around the back of his neck, yanking him closer and almost unbalancing him. “Yeah, yeah, this is much better,” he agreed, and felt fairly sure Snape kissed him again to make him be quiet.

-0-

They got out of the headmaster's office after that, Snape shoving him toward his actual chambers. “What, you don't want to have running commentary by portraits?” Neville asked. “They seem to have a lot of opinions. I was wondering, actually, they've been rather quiet about this. If it's happened before or if they just think you'll set them on fire—”

“I think they're more worried about ink,” Snape said. “Even I wouldn't actually destroy them. Just make it hard to see for a while so they could keep their meddlesome comments to themselves.”

“And the other part?” Neville asked and he had stopped in the hallway, turning around, which is how he found himself with his back to the wall, being kissed.

“They've seen stranger affairs,” Snape admitted when he pulled back, and Neville followed him, to press himself into Snape's side. “You are needy,” Snape said, almost marveling.

“No one told me all this touching would feel so good,” Neville muttered. “I can't help it if it just makes me want,” and he wasn't sure who kissed who first that time.

“That being said, they have not seen many stranger affairs,” Snape said. “But you earned their respect, congratulations.”

Neville blinked up at him. “What. Really? Their respect?”

“You have a remarkable talent for earning that,” Snape said, and he had buried his face in Neville's hair. “I would never have called that as one of your future talents. You've even got the respect of the Carrows.”

“Like hell I have,” Neville said, distracted from the pleasant feelings with those words.

“They would not focus on you like they have otherwise,” Snape said.

“Let's not talk about them right now,” Neville said and Snape nodded, peeling them both away from the wall and this time he led the way into his chambers.

Entering, Neville paused, looking around. “Is this the same as all the headmasters have slept?” he asked, suddenly wary about entering Dumbledore's room. He hoped Snape didn't sleep in the same room as the man he had once killed.

“I honestly do not know,” Snape said. “When I entered they were totally barren and no one could tell me. The castle seems to clear the room or create a new one.”

“Oh,” Neville said, because the room was shockingly barren. “And you didn't bring your stuff from your old rooms?”

“Longbottom,” Snape said, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

“No, please,” Neville shook his head. “Don't call me that.”

There was a moment of silence. “Neville then,” Snape said and Neville shivered. “Alright. You seem to be under the assumption I had much to begin with.”

“Books?” Neville offered. “Or are those all in the main office? Potions? Equipment, it's just,” and he looked around again.

“I grew up poor,” Snape said, softly and angrily at the same time.

“But you've had a salary for over a decade,” Neville said.

“I am not a sentimental man,” Snape said. “I keep what I need. I buy expensive potion ingredients and other things for my work.”

Neville looked around again and then finally nodded, inching closer. “Alright,” he said. “I suppose I can relate in some ways. The only gift I really got was Trevor and he ran away last year.”

Snape paused, tipping his head. “That toad you had,” he said.

“You mean the one you threatened,” Neville said with a wry smile and he close enough to Snape that when he stepped forward, Snape had to spread his knees and Neville's breath caught. “Remember? You were going to feed him my potion. I had to get it exactly right—”

Snape winced, clearly not wanting to remember. “I did not realize he was a gift.”

“Like that would have changed it,” Neville said. Snape looked like he wanted to pull away again so Neville bent and kissed him. It hurt his back a little, to stay that way, bent over and Snape straining up against him.

“I didn't realize he had run away,” Snape said when Neville pulled back.

Neville shrugged. “It's okay. He was always trying. I'm glad, in a way.”

“You are?” Snape frowned.

“He would be dead by now if he had stayed,” Neville said softly. “This way I can think about him having a nice toad family somewhere, probably down by the lake or in the forest. A lovely toad wife, little toadettes...”

Snape pulled a face and Neville laughed, giddy because he could feel Snape's knees on either side of his hips. He wasn't sure how far they could go except that he wanted it to be _somewhere_ , and he wanted to feel and Snape looked at him like he was a marvel that was hard to understand.

“This is still madness,” Snape said, and Neville nodded, cupping his chin and when he bent down to kiss Snape this time, Snape went backwards, laying down and Neville landed on top of him. Catching himself, he stared in shock and Snape gave him a challenging look so Neville braced himself on his elbows and gently kissed him, like there was no where better to be in the world.

Maybe at the moment there wasn't.

-0-

Neville sighed, a week later, trying to spell his robes dry. “This is just annoying,” he muttered, and looked up to see Lavender approaching quickly, several spell birds flying around her head and pecking at her as she ran.

“Hey, leave her,” he started to yell, advancing on the smirking Slytherin fifth year when he heard someone clear their throats behind him.

Turning, he found both the Carrow siblings behind him.

“You're not going to cause trouble, are you?” Alecto asked.

Neville swallowed, and slowly shook his head. “No,” he said softly.

“Good,” Amycus said with dark and glittering eyes. “Are you perhaps learning your place?”

Neville opened his mouth and then bit his lip, aware of Lavender still trying to fend off the spell birds. She was doing a decent job but it would be much faster with two. “Yes,” he said instead. “I am.”

“if only we believed that,” Alecto said as they both walked past him, leaving him rooted in the middle of the hallway.

-0-

“Your hair isn't even that hard to clean,” Neville said, running his fingers through it.

“It gets just a greasy quickly enough,” Snape said, but he sounded sleepy and Neville still couldn't figure out how he felt about being trusted enough for that.

“So you have to preform the cleaning charm a few times a day,” Neville said. “It's not that bad.”

Snape opened one eye to stare at him. “It is hardly like fixing my hair will make any of the rest of me more appealing,” he said.

“Oh sure, the glower and rage thing—”

“The knobbly knees, the hooked nose,” Snape said and there was something glittering in his eyes as he spoke.

Neville paused, leaning down to kiss his nose. “So what about that? Doesn't mean you can't practice good hygiene.”

Snape shook his head. “I know what we have been doing, but even you cannot say I am attractive.”

Neville blinked. “Attraction is about more than that,” he said finally and Snape made a deriding sound, shaking his head. “No, it is. Neither of us are really lookers,” and Snape suddenly moved, rolling him over and Neville knew he would have to leave soon.

He wished so he could stay the night, but they both knew he could not.

But now Snape pressed his shoulders against the bed, looking down at him. “You are,” Snape said and Neville shook his head. “Don't you see that you are? You're not a chubby boy anymore, tripping over his feet.”

He trailed his fingers down Neville's chest, making the skin twitch under his touch and Neville stopped breathing to focus more on how good it felt. He forced air into his lungs again when they protested. “Someday, someone is going to see it, too,” Snape said, nuzzling against his cheek. “And you'll understand it too. “

“You always sound like you know this is going to end,” Neville said and Snape drew back to give him a long look. “No, stop that. Maybe it will fall apart. Maybe we'll die. But we could, you know, make it.”

“And you'd stay with a washed up former death eater who might end up in prison when this is all over?”

“No one could put you prison,” Neville said. “Not if they knew—”

“Ah, such faith in our system,” Snape said and Neville frowned, because he had never considered Snape being sent to prison after this, if they defeated Voldemort.

“But, Dumbledore asked you to kill him,” Neville said.

“Assuming anyone else can believe that,” Snape said. “I could give them my memories, invite them into my mind and they still might not believe it. I have a Dark Mark, and that would be enough,” and Neville turned his head, because he could see the Dark Mark stark against Snape's skin.

“I'd stand up for you,” Neville said and Snape laughed, but it did not sound terribly amused.

“You keep up your track of heroics and it might just impress them enough they'd listen to you,” Snape said, with a sardonic smile and Neville had to reach up to kiss it off his face.

-0-

With the Easter holidays quickly approaching the students who had joined the Carrow's stepped up their attacks, as if hoping to convince people to stay home and become fugitives from the Voldemort run ministry.

“Such charming people,” Padma said one day as the twins walked with Neville.

“Aren't they just?” Neville asked and Parvati shook her head. The twins were holding each other's hands, Neville realized, and wondered if it was hard to part at night to go to their separate common rooms, knowing something could happen to their sister during the night.

“They're cowards,” Padma said and scowled at a Ravenclaw, who had wholescale throw his lot in with the Slytherins. He scowled right back at her.

Neville caught sight of Draco Malfoy heading down another corridor and wondered if he still considered the other boy a coward. They had not spoken since he had walked himself right off the stairs.

That night, he slipped into Snape's office. “I want you to teach me how to resist,” he said and Snape blinked.

“I thought you were already doing that,” he said, arching a brow.

“No, I was thinking about what happened with Malfoy again. Resist the curse. Resist people getting into my head.”

Snape paused, slowly rising. “I am not very good at teaching that,” he said slowly. “The Imperius curse, perhaps, but to teach you Occlumency would require me to invade your mind first.”

“Both would be good,” Neville said and Snape stared at him.

“Did you hear what I actually said?” he asked. “Neville, I would have to invade your mind to teach you how to resist me. Neither of the Carrows are advanced—”

“But other Death Eaters are,” Neville said. “Look, it's almost Easter. Things haven't changed. This might not end this year, or next year. If we have to keep fighting—”

Snape slammed his hand down and Neville jumped. “Are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” Neville said. “Do you, do you have go to rooting around for the really damaging stuff?”

“To know you can resist it, yes,” Snape said and they stared at each other. “We can work on the Imperius curse for now,” he said. “Until the holidays. Afterwards we can reopen the other discussion.”

“Alright,” Neville said softly.

-0-

Neville sat, staring at the portrait hole which had not opened in several hours. It was getting too late for him to stay up, but he could not force himself to bed either. Not until he knew if Ginny was making it back safely or not.

She had gone out in the early evening, meeting up with Hannah Abbott and now Neville sat, waiting as the hours stretched from night back into morning.

When she finally pushed the portrait hole open, he sprang to his feet. “Gin,” he said.

She paused, giving him a weary smile. “Oh, so you're getting some of yours back now, huh?” she asked as he engulfed her in a hug.

“I was worried,” he said.

She punched him in the arm, lightly. “You deserve it, with all you've done that to me, Longbottom.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” he said and forced himself to let go. She grinned up at him. “You were safe, weren't you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said and for a while they stood there, as she hugged him again.

Neville didn't think about the request he made of Snape, or how they had started work on the Imperius curse. His knees felt banged up from walking into chairs and off the desk. He didn't think about the fact they had not heard from Harry Potter in months or that the world outside was getting darker and darker or that they would be going home soon.

Instead he just absorbed her smile and held on.

-0-

Ginny did not get back on the Hogwart's Express and Neville found himself squished between Lavender, Padma and Parvati. His knuckles were white by the time Lavender pried his hand off his knee and held it instead.

-0-

Blaise Zabini was the one who cornered him in the bathroom on the second floor of Hogwarts. “You have got to be kidding me,” Neville started and Blaise shoved him into one of the stalls and entered behind him, clicking the door shut and casting a few spells. “What?” Neville asked, leaning as far back as he could without upending himself over the toilet.

“Not that this isn't fun,” Blaise said, voice as bored as ever.

“Really?” Neville asked. “Because I might have to scream.”

Blaise paused. “Oh. Not that that isn't why I'm usually locked in stalls and not that it wouldn't be fun—” Neville made a protesting shocked sound and Blaise sighed. “No, I'm here, because for some reason Draco Malfoy felt like I should pass on a message.”

“He did it himself last time,” Neville said, wary. Blaise sighed again, heavily. “In a shockingly similar manner, actually.”

“Well, he had himself an interesting holiday. He said that Ginny Wesley went into hiding with her family and should be safe.”

Neville blinked. “That's the second time—”

“And that Luna Lovegood is no longer in his dungeon, and that Harry Potter, Ron Wesley, Herminone Granger, and,” he paused, frowning. “Dean Thomas? Are also safe. At least he assumes so as they all escaped as a pack from Malfoy Manor.”

Neville's jaw dropped. “What?” he asked weakly.

“Just be glad I have such a good memory,” Blaise said and shoved the door back open. “If anyone asks, I'm a great shag and that's what we were doing.”

“Wait,” Neville reached out, grabbing his arm. “If you were willing to tell me this, to risk this, surely you can't believe—”

Blaise picked his hand off his arm, carefully setting it back at Neville's side. “Don't try it.”

“You warned Parvati too,” he pressed and Blaise scowled. “You did, she told me—”

“Why do you always try to see nobility in people?” Blaise asked, and his bored voice finally had a note of annoyance in it. “I was just passing on a message. Both times. That's hardly revolutionary.”

“We could use your help,” Neville said.

“Please shut up,” Blaise snapped, his expression breaking for the first time Neville had ever seen. “You have no idea what's going on, what you're asking. You're being brave and stupid and you should stop.” He shook his head again. “Remember. Shag. If anyone asks,” and he walked out, leaving Neville biting his lip and glaring after him.

-0-

He caught up to Seamus in the hallway and hustled him into a side room that was empty. “Whoa, Neville, what is it?” Seamus asked.

“Don't ask me how, I can't tell you,” Neville said. “But I just heard. Dean was seen,” and Seamus froze, his eyes wide. “Harry, Ron, Hermione too. They were all together, with Luna, and they escaped. They are all safe together, I think. I hope. But he's alive, they're all—”

And he ended up holding Seamus as the other boy broke, crying against his chest and fingers scrambling along his arms. “He's alive? They're alive?” Seamus asked.

“Yeah,” Neville said and realized he was grinning. “Ginny's in hiding too. They're all,” and he broke off, letting Seamus hold onto him.

“We should tell the others,” Seamus said finally.

“I think I have some great new slogans to put on the wall,” Neville said brightly and Seamus laughed, a watery sound.

“Oh, tonight is going to be fun,” he agreed.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey this time it hasn't even been a whole year since I updated! Yay me.

Ernie Macmillan tried to step in as much as possible with Ginny gone, his attention to detail far surpassing what her own had been. But he was not Ginny Wesley as much as Lavender and Seamus were not Luna.

New graffiti went up overnight, crowing that Harry Potter was still alive, still fighting, and out there, coming for the forces of darkness. The first time Blaise saw it and Neville at the same time, he gave Neville a long look before shaking his head and walking away.

Neville decided not to blame him for it.

Draco for his part went deadly pale and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

But Neville saw other students, especially the younger ones stop and linger in front of the signs, new light entering their eyes and it was even worth the detention he netted.

At least he thought so at the beginning of the night. When morning came, and he was thrown out of the dungeon, aching, to land on his face on the stone floor, Amycus followed him. As Neville tried to push himself back up, Amycus slammed a hand down between his shoulder blades, forcing him back down.

“You should know, Longbottom,” he said, and Neville stopped breathing. “That the dark lord sent some of his followers to your grandmother's house. Last night. We should be hearing back from them today,” and Neville scrambled forward, desperate not to have his back to Amycus anymore. “It will be interesting to hear what they have to report.”

At first he could only stare blankly before Neville turned and ran and he ran to Snape, because it was barely dawn yet and no one else was out in the hallways yet.

“Is it true?” he demanded, throwing the door open to Snape's chamber and Snape was already awake and turned when Neville entered.

“I was looking for you all night,” Snape snapped.

“I was easy to find in detention,” Neville said. “Is it true? About my gran? Have you heard anything? Is she safe, is she alright, is she—?”

“She got away from them,” Snape said and Neville's shoulders sagged. He stumbled forward, falling against Snape's chest and after a second, Snape held onto him. “She's on the run but she was safe last anyone knew.”

“Oh, okay,” Neville breathed.

“Detention?” Snape sighed, and his fingers trailed across Neville's check. “Again?”

“Sorry,” Neville mumbled.

“When exactly are you sleeping?” Snape asked.

“When I can,” Neville said and he was exhausted enough that he swayed slightly until Snape tightened his gripe on him.

“You are such a stupid boy,” Snape sighed. “How did you hear about Harry and the others, anyway?”

“Blaise Zabini told me,” Neville said, and then tensed when Snape pulled back to stare at him in shock. “Malfoy had him pass it on.”

“Zabini?” Snape asked and Neville felt a moment of panic, because even after all these months, the more Snape knew the more dangerous it was for everyone. “I would never have expected that.”

“He wasn't too pleased about it either,” Neville said.

“But he still did it, and that is dangerous enough,” Snape said and frowned.

Neville looked away, but he did not draw back. “It's almost an unwinnable situation, isn't it? For the Slytherins.”

Neville felt Snape's fingers tighten on his arms. “What in Merlin's name do you mean?”

“If He does win, at least some of them are going to be stuck in a world they hate as much as the rest of us,” Neville said. “Even if they get some advantages there. But if He loses, they will continue to look like the enemy. Because who is going to believe they didn't want this?”

Snape sighed, resting his forehead on the top of Neville's hair. “We still have to survive before that can really matter.”

“Oh yeah,” Neville said. “I forgot the third option—we just all kill each other off and England's wizarding world crumbles.” He paused. “Sometimes that doesn't sound like such a bad idea.”

“Excuse me?” Snape asked, drawing back.

“It's just,” Neville swayed again, still using Snape to stay upright. “Think about it. When we create this, what's worth it in this culture to keep fighting for? When we allow our own children to hurt each other, when someone like _him_ can come to power in the first place. When our government was so stupid they did nothing! They let him take the power away from them—what sort of government does that? Is this worth—”

“You're tired,” Snape said, leading Neville to a chair and letting him drop into it.

“This isn't just a mood,” Neville said. “I think our world—well. It's been broken a while.”

“Do you think the Muggle world is that much better?” Snape demanded, leaning against the desk. “So you think children don't hurt each other? That their governments don't let terrible things happen?”

“No,” Neville shook his head. “But that doesn't absolve us of trying to be better. To become something better.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe survive one war before declaring the next, Neville.”

Neville gave him a faint smile. “I'll try. No promises though.”

Snape was giving him another look, like he was still trying to find the first or second year Neville in Neville's face. “You should go,” he said, and sounded like he regretted it. “Before too many people rise.”

“Yeah,” Neville said, pushing himself back up and they stared at each other a moment. “I—I'll see you?”

“I'm hardly going anywhere, Neville,” Snape said, with an arched brow but just in case, Neville leaned up to kiss him anyway.

-0-

Neville is five years old, a crumbled gum wrapped in one clenched fist, and he's finally starting to understand that he's not a normal boy, being raised by his parents. His father is muttering something to the wall at St. Mungo's and it's perhaps the first time he's realized, firmly and irrevocably, that he's never going to have parents.

Neville is six and his lungs are filling with water and he was trying to scream because somehow he wasn't enough to his family. He was failing them, even though he was only six years old.

Neville is eight, and he's used to feeling like a failure simply for not having the aptitude the other pureblood children have. Draco Malfoy had shown off plenty of innate magic, his great uncle was saying, a bright boy with a bright future—and somehow after dinner Neville found himself dangled outside a window by his feet because he still showed no magic. Neville is eight and he's not even scared anymore, because if he doesn't have magic, one of these days his great uncle will accidentally kill him and he'll simply become a story of a disappointment. But he bounces and bounces again instead of splattering across the ground.

Neville is eleven and he's not scared, even if he is tripping over his own feet and can barely listen to the head boy explaining where the common room is, but then Trevor leaps out of his hands and he goes scrambling after him while some of the other children laugh and Neville can feel his face heat. It doesn't help that his gran gave him his father's wand and it feels wrong in his hands, the weight of it too heavy and the expectation too high.

Neville is twelve and he's shoved against the back of the carriage, listening to Hermione explain that Hogwarts has horseless carriages, it's always had horseless carriages, but Neville is looking right at a skeletal horse with wings and he doesn't know how to say that to Hermione so he clutches the seat until his knuckles go white and no one asks him why his gaze hasn't moved at all.

Neville is thirteen and he is scared, scared of his professor, of the other students—

Neville is fourteen and he's watching a spider thrash around in agony in front of him, understanding for the first time what his parents would have looked like when this had been happening to them. Later, he's given tea and a book on plants and much later he finds out the man who did both those things was one of the men who took his parents from him.

Neville is sixteen, and hasn't been able to find Trevor in two weeks. He hasn't told anyone, but he's given up.

Neville is seventeen and he doesn't have to watch, he knows the way his parents felt, unable to get enough air in his lungs to scream—

Snape yanked out of his head all at once, leaving Neville panting in a chair, his hands covering his face. “You aren't pushing me out,” Snape said. “I could have kept going and you're still not shielding—”

Neville pushed himself to his feet, walking away to lean his face against the cool stone of the walls. “That sucked,” he murmured.

“You're the one who asked me how to teach you this,” Snape said, and Neville could hear the rustle of his robes, indicating he was crossing his arms again. “I told you I would have to dig into your head—”

“I know,” Neville said, waving an arm. “I know. It just sucks.”

For a moment there was silence behind him. “How many times, exactly, did your uncle try and kill you?” Snape asked, voice flat.

“Please, don't,” Neville started.

“How many times?” Snape demanded and Neville finally turned around.

“Those two were the most dangerous,” Neville said and there was a cold fury in Snape's eyes. “Don't—“

“A family is supposed to protect each other.”

“And yours did, is that it?” Neville snapped and Snape's expression was answer enough to that. “I didn't think so.”

Snape's hand curled and uncurled. “That's enough for tonight,” he said, turning away.

“No,” Neville protested. “No, I—I need to do better. I must be able to do better.”

“Why does this bother you so much?” Snape asked, turning back around. “Why are you so insistent on learning this magic?”

“Because I don't want anyone to be able to get into my head,” Neville said, voice low. “I don't want anyone being able to go in there and mess it up.” He breathed deeply, letting it out more shallowly than he meant. “There's enough other ways to drive me mad, I don't want to leave the door open.”

Snape stared at him before abruptly looking away. “Alright,” he said. “We'll try again.”

-0-

“Where do you go?” Seamus asked, sleepy, when Neville sneaked back into their dormitory.

“What do you mean?” Neville asked, but his fingers were still shaking when he pulled his robe off. “Didn't we talk about how we should know as little as possible?”

“Yeah, but,” Seamus rolled over, watching Neville in the barely there light from the moon. “Unless you're working on something _really_ big, you're gone an awful lot and no one seems to know where you are. There's no corresponding mayhem to when you're gone either.” Neville stopped and Seamus waited. “I mean, unless you're sneaking out to see someone. Couldn't blame you then.”

“It,” Neville started and stopped, because that hit too close to the truth. But he had no idea what else to say.

“And you couldn't just tell me?” Seamus asked, hurt leaking into his voice. “Nev, come on.”

“It's complicated,” Neville said faintly.

“Complicated?” Seamus asked. “I just want to be happy for someone in this terrible place. If—if you're happy, that's good, right? Complicated or not. At least you have,” and Neville heard the catch in his breath. “Someone.”

Neville hesitated for a moment, before he finished pulling off his robe and crawled into Seamus' bed, even though it was built for only one almost grown man to lay in. He curled his arms around Seamus and let him sniffle into his shoulder for a while. “This is kinda weird,” Seamus said after a while.

“Yeah,” Neville agreed but didn't let go or move to his own bed.

“So do you?” Seamus asked. “Have someone?”

Neville bit his lip before he sighed. “For now I do,” he said.

“Think you could be happy?”

“I don't know,” Neville said. “Right—” and he didn't want to admit it. “Right now I am.”

“That must be nice,” Seamus mumbled into his shoulder and actually it made Neville feel terrible. Too many others had been ripped apart from the ones they cared about and he constantly felt like he was in danger of distracting himself or Snape to a dangerous degree. And it wasn't like they had ever once talked about what the future might bring for both of them.

“It's something,” Neville whispered.

“For someone who just said they were happy, you really don't sound it,” Seamus said.

“I don't think it can last,” Neville said, and felt like someone had knocked him viciously in the chest.

“You want it to?”

“I don't,” and Neville had never had the chance to talk about Snape with anyone, in any manner and floundered with the opportunity now. Did he want this to last? Could he imagine life without Snape being both angry and gentle with him? Did he want to leave behind the careful way Snape kissed him while reminding them both how foolish this all was? “I do,” Neville said and the realization felt like another blow, so soon after the other one.

“Than make it last,” Seamus said.

“I'll try,” Neville said and neither of them had to point out they could all die.

“So this cuddling,” Seamus said and Neville almost finally got up. “Is it more for your comfort or mine?”

“Little bit of both?” Neville offered and Seamus sighed, shifting closer to Neville, his breath puffing gently on his shoulder.

“Okay, I can live with that,” Seamus said and they fell asleep like that, though Neville woke up when he fell out of bed several hours later.

-0-

Neville was hidden in the back of the library, trying to finish the essay for muggle studies due in the morning even though his hands ached and his eyes were blurry. The last thing he could actually afford was to be hit with another torture spell, even if every word he wrote on the page made him want to throw up.

He tensed, eyes snapping up when he heard someone walk back to his corner. Draco Malfoy stopped, having reached for a book on the shelf nearby. Neville hadn't been this close to the other boy since the day in the bathroom, when Neville had almost bled out.

Neville looked down again, scratching his quill for a few lines before he rubbed one of the long scars on his shoulders. Draco shuffled back and forth in front of the shelf, picking up a few books and putting others back on the shelf.

“It hurts, doesn't it?” Draco asked abruptly and Neville snapped his head up.

“Excuse me?”

“The—where the spell damage is,” Draco said, voice dropping. “The scars—they never really stop hurting.”

Neville narrowed his eyes at him. “Looking for weakness, Malfoy?”

“No,” Draco said, and he jerked his gaze away, staring blankly at the books in front of him. He remained still and pale so long Neville put his quill down.

“Draco?”

“It's just, I never—no one else has had that curse used on them,” Draco said. “I'm sorry Crabbe and Goyle remembered it so well. I wish I had never told them what the spell was, but I was delirious still, and stupid, but I should never have told them what I thought I heard Potter say.”

“Draco,” Neville repeated.

“It's not all the time,” Draco said. “But the scars never really stop hurting.”

“I'm sorry Harry cast it on you,” Neville said and Draco jumped, looking at him in wide eyed alarm before his expression slammed closed again.

“He didn't know what it was going to do,” Draco said, picking up the books he'd been picking out. “They did.”

“Draco—” Neville started to say again, standing up but Draco was already stomping away.

“And stop calling me that,” Draco hissed as he was about to turn the corner. “We're not friends, Longbottom,” and he was gone so Neville sank back down into his seat. Rubbing his eyes with one hand he sighed, picking his quill up again.

He wasn't certain what to do with the fact Draco felt the same ache from the same long and thin scars he did.

-0-

There was still snow on the ground when Neville glanced over at Snape one night and started laughing.

“What?” Snape asked, scowling over at him. They lay in his bed, after several long hours in which Neville finally had managed to push Snape back out of his mind, even if he hadn't gotten all the way back into Snape's own head.

“Do you ever get a really petty joy out of fucking a pureblood?” Neville asked and Snape blinked at him, obviously having not quite expected it. “You know,” Neville said and he rolled over, swinging a leg over Snape's waist and settling back down. “We can't have kids. Can't pollute the bloodline either, but I'm pretty certain this wouldn't be approved of.”

“That is petty,” Snape said, but he smiled. “And hardly the only reason for this. But—yes. Sometimes it occurs to me how angry this would make certain other Death Eaters.”

Neville idly traced his fingers down Snape's neck. “The school year is mostly over.”

“There are still dangerous months to go,” Snape said, frowning at him.

“I just,” Neville tilted his head. “The war may not end with school,” he said and Snape nodded. “If I survive until graduation, I'll probably have to go underground. You'll still be here. It could be—it could go on for years.”

“Neville—”

“I want to ask you what you're going to do over the summer,” Neville said and choked on a bitter laugh. “But it's not like we could, you know? You can't disappear, you can't go underground with me and just come back to Hogwarts again. And I can't just stick around, if my gran is already a target than I must be too.”

Snape watched him with dark eyes until he finally nodded.

“And Hogwarts is only going to become more dangerous for you too,” Neville said.

“I promised,” Snape said. “I can do the Order the most good here, even if they don't realize I'm still on their side.”

“Does anyone?” Neville asked. “Does anyone in the whole Order who is alive know you're still on their side?”

“No,” Snape said. “It had—I had to have his _uttermost_ trust.”

“I know,” Neville said. “I'll know.”

“Already so certain you'll join the Order?” Snape asked, arching a brow and Neville felt his chest tightening, because Snape was spread out beneath him, warm and sarcastic and Neville was starting to realize how little time they had left.

“Yeah,” Neville said and leaned down and kissed him. “Yeah, I will. I'll vouch for you.”

“If we win.”

“If we win,” Neville agreed. “If we win, and we must, will we,” and he couldn't quite finish the question.

But Snape seemed to know. “When you leave here, you're going to find yourself wanting to spend your time with someone else,” he said. He kept his voice light, like it didn't bother him at all but there was something in his expression that said he would mind, very much, if Neville moved on.

“And if I don't?” Neville said. “If this is all over and I want to build a life with you?”

“You won't,” Snape said, and for some reason Neville let him have the last word, just kissing him again instead.

-0-

“Again?” Neville asked, when Crabbe pushed him against the stair banister. “What can I help you gentlemen with?”

“We want to practice some of those spells we were learning, see?” Crabbe said, Goyle leering over his shoulder and Neville had almost managed a week—a whole week!—without having to go to the hospital wing.

Draco was nowhere to be found and Neville offered them a grin instead of fear. “And which spell would that be?” He reached for his wand but they had surprised him and were both bigger and stronger.

But he didn't even hear the words because the muscles on his arm were tearing apart, slowly ripping down the middle as if there was a seam there. For a second he could see the muscles as they ripped through the long gash that had opened up in his skin before the blood started welling up and leaking down his arm as the tear started going up from his forearm toward his elbow.

There was yelling, and Goyle had turned, creating a shield between Neville and Crabbe and anyone trying to come in and separate them. The children outside the shield seemed to be falling into two groups with Blaise Zabini pushed his way through the crowd.

“Stop it,” he said, not sounding bored at all and Goyle squinted at him.

“What do you—”

“I said stop it!” and Crabbe abruptly did, though Neville's arm was still bleeding, and he was almost thankful Crabbe was holding him up, because he would have collapsed otherwise.

“We were told to practice our spellwork, Zabini,” he said, with a cruel grin.

“You're going to kill him!” Blaise snapped and Neville had never seen him anything except bored or slightly annoyed. “That's the rule. Don't _kill other students_.”

“It's a rule that's outlived its usefulness,” Crabbe said.

“Bring that up with the Carrows and Headmaster then,” Blaise said. “In the meantime, assuming those rules are still actively in place, I'm going to take him to the hospital wing before he bleeds out on the staircase.”

“You're being a fool,” Goyle said.

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Blaise muttered and he shoved past Goyle to grab Neville and drag him out from between Crabbe and the banister. “Come _on_ , Longbottom, I don't want to deal with you bleeding out on the way.”

“You could,” Neville slurred.

“I am _not_ messing with trying to heal curse damage,” Blaise said. “And this isn't a favor to you. Stop giving me doe eyes.”

“I'm not giving you doe eyes,” Neville muttered as they stumbled along. He saw Ernie start forward, like he might take Neville away from Blaise, before stepping back. “Pretty sure your escort is the only thing getting me to the hospital wing in one piece.”

“Yeah, probably,” Blaise muttered, dragging him and Neville tried to help by walking as much as he could, but he kept feeling like his legs were about to give out.

They were halfway there when Neville's legs gave out entirely and Blaise swore violently as they both went tumbling down. “Longbottom! Longbottom! Get up, I can't carry you.”

“A second,” Neville mumbled. “I'll—”

But Blaise was already dragging him up. “They went too far,” he scowled.

“I'll be fine,” Neville said. “Recovered from worse.”

“ _Curse damage_ ,” Blaise reminded him. “Even wizards sometimes aren't good at healing that.”

And Neville knew that, he knew that since he was a child watching his parents, knew it since the long white scars all over his body continued to ache long after the healing. “I was trying to be reassuring.”

Blaise paused, and Neville was still half on the ground, Blaise crouched over him. “You,” he said, sounding strangled. “Trying to reassure me. What a world we have.” He sighed. “Do you think you can try and stand up now?”

“I'll try,” Neville said, and helped as much as he could when Blaise pulled. Somehow they got him up and started staggering down the hallway again. “It's the Headmaster's rule not to kill any students,” Neville said, and Blaise glanced over at him sideways.

“You think that means it's going to stand?” he asked.

“No,” Neville admitted. “But to break it, you'd have to go against him.”

“I don't think even you find Snape the scariest thing in the world anymore,” Blaise said and Neville thought he kept his expression mostly clear, except for the odd look Blaise gave him.

“No,” Neville agreed. They had left a trial of blood behind them and he could feel more blood dripping down his fingertips.

“Besides, even he is going to lose control,” Blaise said. “It's just a matter of time.”

Neville agreed but hoped the time hadn't come quite yet.

When Blaise dragged him inside the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey came rushing out of her office. “What have you children done to each other this time!” she cried, as Blaise dumped Neville on a bed, shockingly careful of his arm.

“You children?” Blaise demanded. “I didn't do this! I've had nothing to do with any of this. I've just been keeping my head down and trying to avoid _both_ sides being angry at me, something I rather screwed up today!”

“Are you going to be alright?” Neville slurred, looking up at him and Blaise shot him an equally shocked and annoyed look.

“Shut _up_ , Longbottom,” he said.

“There's no need to speak to my patient like that,” Madame Pomfrey said, already holding her wand to Neville's arm.

Blaise let out a breath. “Alright. I got him here, so I'm just going to see myself out again.”

“Thank you,” Neville whispered, almost reaching out with his uninjured arm.

“You could consider not getting yourself killed,” Blaise said. “I'm serious, Longbottom. If they come for anyone it's going to be you first.”

Neville opened his mouth again but Blaise was already gone, slamming the door behind himself.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's Wrong" by Prvis was a song this chapter did not need

Lavender Brown came to visit with Hannah Abbot not too long after he arrived and Neville was surprised when Hannah slapped him.

“Ow,” he managed weakly.

“Would you stop being such a target?” Hannah asked, and Lavender nodded over her shoulder.

“It's not like I'm wearing a sign saying please curse me,” Neville said.

“You have to stop doing this,” Lavender said.

“I will,” Neville said. “Hey, hey, it's going to be okay. Things are going to work out.” Neither of them looked like they believed him for a second but neither girl called him out on it either. They stayed for a while, trying to keep the conversation light and for a second Neville almost believed his own lie.

Except later, when it was dark and long past curfew, Snape swept quietly into the hospital wing. “How is your arm?”

“It's getting better,” Neville said, eyeing him as Snape looked back and forth several times, obviously checking for anyone else.

“Your grandmother was spotted,” he said. “Fleeing with several known members of the Order.” His voice was flat, but his hands were clenched in his robe sleeves and Neville's breath caught. He felt himself go cold, caught between the good news that his gran was alive and the horrible reality that their whole family would be blamed for her associations.

“I can't protect you,” Snape said, and Neville nodded because he had expected nothing else. “Can you run?”

“Yes,” Neville said, already pushing himself up.

“Do you have somewhere to run to?” Snape demanded, helping him stand and for a second they both stopped there, Snape's hands on Neville's shoulders. No one else was in the room but they still simply stared at each other.

“I do,” Neville said, wanting to lean forward.

“Be careful,” Snape said, and ignoring the danger he lifted his hand, fingers pushing Neville's hair back out of his eyes.

“I have a plan,” Neville promised, because he had laid awake thinking about it for weeks.

“How very un-Gryfindor like of you,” Snape said with a strained smile and Neville couldn't stop himself from leaning up, kissing Snape like it would be the last time.

He hoped it wouldn't be the last time.

“I said go,” Snape said when Neville pulled back.

“Be careful yourself,” Neville said and Snape gave him a curt nod before sweeping back out of the hospital week. Neville watched him go, throat clogged. For a long moment he stood there, waiting for Snape to get away and yet aware of how much his own clock was ticking with anyone to protect him gone.

He hoped enough time had passed when he bolted out of the hospital wing, ignoring his aching arm or what Madame Pomfrey would think when she came to do her rounds at the end of the hour and find him gone.

-0-

The room of requirement gave him a small room with a hammock strung up in one corner and a large radio. Neville cringed upon seeing the hammock but climbed up into it anyway, cradling his arm and wondering what would happen in the morning when everyone noticed he was gone. He should have told someone, he thought, fingers of his right hand resting on the bandages on his left arm.

Tomorrow night he'd have to sneak out for food one way or another.

He'd find them and tell them then.

-0-

He slept through the night and most of the next morning. When he woke up his arm ached and for a long time he lay in the gently swaying hammock, staring at the ceiling.

There were guards and dementors at every exit to Hogwarts so it wasn't like he could just waltz out of the castle and try and find his gran or the order or anyone at all that would help him keep fighting. Not to mention he had promised too many people to stay and fight here and now and he wouldn't abandon them just because it became even more obvious how dangerous it was.

Cradling his arm closer to his chest he sighed because he could already imagine Snape berating him for being such a fool as to even consider keeping the fight up with his own death warrant hanging over his head.

He had plenty of time to dwell in his own pity as he waited for night to fall.

Night technically wasn't all that much safer but at least less people would be in the halls as he sneaked his way to the kitchens. Ron had told him where they were, though Neville had never felt a need to seek them out himself before now.

Turning the final corner, almost letting his breath out he froze when he heard voices.

“You know, I always suspected you were a fucking idiot,” Theodore Nott said and Neville tensed, inching his way back.

“Is that so?” Blaise asked, sounding bored and Neville stopped retreating.

“You just hid it better than most of our other year mates,” Nott continued. “But here at last, our final, irrevocable proof that you're as moronic as Draco at his worst.”

“Are you done yet?”

“I haven't even gotten started because for _some_ reason I haven't been able to find you all day!”

“We're not friends, Theo, I don't need—”

“Oh for fuck's sake, Blaise! The only reason you've gotten away with even half of what you have this year is because you've done _nothing_. The only protection you had was that you refused to care about either side. It wasn't a balancing act you were ever going to pull off forever, I just can't believe you blew it in such a spectacularly stupid way.”

“So I should have stood by and let our housemates murder another student in front of us?”

“You should have found a better way of stopping it if Longbottom meant that much to you—”

“I don't give a damn about Longbottom, I give a damn about any student about to bleed to death from curse damage—”

“You have to take a side now, Blaise, and it can't be theirs.”

There was silence long enough Neville worried that at any second they were going to turn the corner and find him there.

“I'm sorry,” Blaise said finally. “Are you trying to _protect_ me.”

“Fuck you Zabini,” Nott shot back instantly.

“Because that's sure what it sounded like—”

“We've lived in the same room for the last fucking seven years—”

“And you're the one who informed me you don't have friends,” Blaise hissed. “You were perfectly clear about that—”

“Fine, ignore my warning and everything I just said! You're right, what does it matter to me anyway? If you want to throw away the only chance you have to survive this fucking war why would I care?”

“How can you even stand this?” Blaise asked. “This constant bowing and scraping to someone else's ideals. It's not very Slytherin of us, is it? To blindly follow anyone—”

“Because the only way to get power to make my own decisions depends on surviving first,” Nott said. “And backing the right movement.”

“This is the horse you want to back all the way?” Blaise asked. “Seriously? Even if it means abusing and using people and—”

“You'd think with your mother you'd be more comfortable with the idea of using people for your own gain.”

“Fuck you,” Blaise snarled and Neville pressed himself further back into the wall.

“Look, Blaise—”

“No, Theo. You've said your piece. Message received. I understand what I have to do, alright? I've understood it all day. I gave up my neutrality so now I have to prove that I'm a good pureblood. I know this game as well as you do.”

There was another moment of silence between them. “You should never have tried to not play it at all,” Nott said.

“Yeah well, we all make our mistakes, even you,” Blaise said and there was silence again, followed by the sound of footsteps. Luckily, they were going in the opposite direction, but Neville still stayed pressed against the wall for a long time, because he wasn't certain if they had left together or not.

-0-

He got as much food as he could carry and situated it in the Room of Requirement before setting out again, sneaking all the way to the Gryffindor common room.

Seamus' entire face was one big bruise when he threw himself toward Neville. “What the hell, mate?”

“I had to run.”

“Where are you hiding?”

“The Room of Requirement,” Neville said, and frowned at Seamus' face. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Take a wild guess,” Seamus said. “You could have said! You could have warned us!”

“I know,” Neville said. “I couldn't, I didn't have the time.”

“Do you think the room is even safe?” Seamus asked. “I mean, they broke into it in fifth year—”

Neville felt his stomach turn over. “There's not really a lot of options,” he said. “Where else can I hide?”

Seamus looked at him, looked away and sighed. “I think we're all going to need a place to hide soon.”

“I'll try to make sure it's homey before then,” Neville said and Seamus barked out a laugh that didn't sound amused at all. When Neville left, Seamus clung to him, desperate.

And within a few weeks Seamus and several others had joined him in the Room of Requirement.

-0-

The year was fast slipping away from them and Neville started to wonder how they were even getting out of the castle at the end of it.

A passage had amazingly appeared one day, when they had been discussing the danger of constantly sneaking out for food. “I love this room so much,” Seamus had declared. But even that passage only went to Hogsmeade, which was patrolled as constantly as the castle. Neville wasn't certain how they could use it to escape when summer came.

One night, as Neville sat on his hammock and stared at the door, Seamus sat down beside him. “I've noticed something.”

“Have you?” Neville asked, not really paying attention, wondering if Snape was in his office, or wandering the halls, and what the chance Neville had of finding him.

“You're not sneaking out,” Seamus said. “But neither are you spending a lot of time with anyone in particular.”

“What does that,” Neville started to ask, finally turning to look at him.

“That person,” Seamus said and Neville froze. “That was making you happy. They're not in here, are they?”

“No,” Neville said, feeling like saying it was admitting something far too large for the space between them.

Seamus sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“What for?” Neville asked, unable to look at him.

“That whoever you're wild for isn't, well—I mean, I guess that's assuming you're still with them?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, though he hadn't seen Snape since Snape told him to run. “It's just too dangerous.”

Seamus nodded, and they sat together in silence, but Neville felt the longing that had him staring at the door earlier come back, more intense than ever before.

Some nights later he finally gave up, sneaking out in the middle of the night. He wasn't certain what was the safest course of action so he started for the Headmaster's office only to be turned back several times by students obviously patrolling and looking for the missing students.

It was only when it was approaching dawn that he ran into a patrol by sheer accident. A curse went off at his face before he was able to duck around the next corner and take off at a dead run. He lost them finally three floors down and half the castle away, hiding himself in an empty class room as they clattered past, yelling.

For a while he stayed there, but soon the students would be stirring, going down to breakfast and he had quite a ways to get back to the Room of Requirement.

But he opened the door to find Snape on the other side.

“I heard that you had been spotted,” Snape said. “I was simply doing my rounds,” but he shoved Neville back into the classroom as much as Neville dragged him inside, shutting the door as they both cast locking and silencing charms at it and then, finally, they were kissing, Neville's hands twisted up in Snape's collar.

“You're face,” Snape started.

“Stop it,” Neville said and their mouths were seeking each other out again, softer this time but no less desperate.

“I've missed you,” Snape said.

“Fuck,” Neville muttered and they still hadn't been able to keep their mouths away for more than a word or two at a time. “We—”

“Are you safe?” Snape asked.

“I've managed to hide this long, haven't I?”

“And a shocking number of other students besides,” Snape said and they finally pulled away, at least enough for Snape to rest their foreheads together.

“You look awful,” Neville murmured. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

Snape chuckled. “Of course I haven't.”

“Things are getting worse, aren't they?” Neville asked.

“They were already worse,” Snape said, shaking his head but not pulling back and Neville wrapped his arms around Snape's neck, ducking his head to rest against the crook of his neck.

“I miss you,” Neville said. “I miss you. I keep thinking about when this is over—”

“Neville,” Snape started. “Don't. Not again. I haven't seen you in weeks because the people I'm supposed to be able to control want to _kill_ you and I can't come up with enough good reasons to stop them—”

“That has no bearing on us.”

“Yes it does,” Snape snapped. “This—us—is complete madness. When this is over—”

“You're not honestly going to go there again are you?” Neville asked. “That when this is over there won't be an us?”

“Neville—”

“I don't care,” Neville said, drawing back enough to see Snape's face. “Whatever you're about to say or protest, I don't care. You're right, of course, that it's totally mad. But I know what I want, what I've wanted when I was hiding away and missing you and what I want when this is all over is you. I very well love you.”

The sun hadn't risen outside the windows yet but Neville could still see Snape's expression as he froze, going stiff in Neville's arms. “You don't—”

“I know you're a jerk,” Neville breezed past his protest. “But—you're funny, and gentle, and you care too much and you're doing all these mad and brave things to protect people and—and I love you for it. Despite everything that happened to us in the past—I don't bloody care. I love you. I want to build a life with you and I need you to know that in case we don't get luck like this again for a long time.”

Something funny was happening to Snape's face. “You'll change your mind when we actually try to build that life—”

“Maybe. But I want to try,” Neville whispered.

“And what exactly could this life look like?” Snape asked, harsh and Neville pressed closer again, holding his face in both his hands.

“I don't know. Not sneaking around, that's for sure. And you should right quit Hogwarts. Find what you actually want to _do_ with your life. Because you and children were a right terrible mix,” and Snape actually laughed, creaky and pained.

“How I hated it here.”

Neville searched Snape's eyes, not drawing back. “So do what you _want_ , instead of what youre duty made you. Do you—do you want that too? A—A life with me? When this is over?”

Snape finally met his gaze. “I can't even imagine what that might look like. Because I can't let myself hope like that yet. If I start dreaming, I won't be able to stop.”

Neville wet his lips, took a deep breath. “Severus—” he said.

“No one's ever told me they love me before,” Snape said, small, and Neville had expected that but it still hurt, an ache deep inside him.

“Well I'm telling you now,” he said. “That I love you.”

Snape reached forward to thread his hands through Neville's hair, resting their foreheads together again. “You mad boy. I wish I could have any positive influence in your life, to be able to say I'm proud of you. But you amaze me.”

Nevile took in a shuddering breath. “Severus,” he tried the name again.

“You make me want to hope,” Snape said. “I want to wish for a life past this awful mess.”

“I'll make the plans for both of us,” Neville whispered. “Then, when it's over, you can tell me what a fool I am and we can make new ones together.”

“I'd rather never call you a fool again.”

Neville made a wheezing sound. “That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me.”

“That's pathetic,” Snape said, and they both almost laughed but it broke down and Snape kissed him again, soft and desperate. “Let me do better. Let me tell you that I love you, you foolish boy, because I do, too. I love you.”

Neville keened before tilting his mouth for another kiss.

“Survive,” Snape said, because the sun had finally rising. “Survive so I can hope again when this is all over.”

“I will,” Neville promised. “I will.”

They stayed there for another too short moment, just breathing together before with a final kiss they broke apart and went their separate ways, in the weak light of the rising sun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Glances at the timeline* Wait no I'm not ready...


End file.
